Clay Penance
by 20FacesChizu
Summary: As a child, he was foolish. As a man, he was an opportunist. When Deidara saves Team 7 from a losing battle against Kisame, he may get the home he's always wished for. Will the serial murders of the ANBU OPs endanger his chance at a new life? AR
1. Breaking Point

_**Disclaimer:**__ The series of Naruto belongs entirely to Kishimoto-sensei; I own it neither in whole nor part._

_**Note:**__ If you don't like Deidara, go fly a kite; I'm finally trying this, and if I do say so, it's a rather nice plot. So there. The idea was slightly borrowed from someone on , but believe me when I say the stories are completely different._

**_Clay Penance_**

_20FacesChizu_

* * *

**Chapter 1- Breaking Point**

_~ten years ago~_

The destruction was rampant; the village was completely demolished, smoldering in heaps of ash and coal. Over the crackling of fire, a set of footsteps could be heard, carrying their master through the devastation. A young boy hid amongst the rubble, pressing himself between charred and glowing tinder, trying to make sure his breaths were even and quiet despite the fear that coursed through him like bad blood.

He was only a genin- he could do nothing against _him_.

_He_ was an S-class criminal.

The sweat that dampened his skin and mixed with his blood was thick; the air was so filled with ashes, embers and salt that attempts to breathe were nearly completely choked. He pressed himself further within charred planks of what was once his room, and prayed desperately to whatever heavenly being was listening that his attempts at remaining hidden would not be in vain.

It seemed a star had heard his plea. The demon passed by without a glance towards his hiding place, and left him to the ruin.

* * *

Deidara startled out of his light sleep, and rubbed his eyes, glancing out the window of his shabby hotel room. He hadn't had that dream for a while. The one where those words so long ago had set the stage for his future.

"_I swear… I swear to you! I'll become the most dangerous ninja ever, and I'll kill you for this!"_

He glanced down at his hands, one his own, and one that a victim has so generously 'donated' to him, and gripped them painfully. He'd done what he said; only three years after starting out, he became a well-known criminal, and was able to kill the man that had destroyed his home village. A year after that, he found out that the man had been Akatsuki; it was then that he was 'recruited,' however unwilling. A bitter laugh escaped his lips.

_Definitely not the best thing I ever did, yeah._

At first it had seemed like the ideal job—decent lodging, astronomical pay, and food to fill a hungry stomach and missions that were never dull. Training grounds, strong companions… he couldn't have asked for more.

Until the first time he had to kill a child.

She was a little girl: raven hair, violet eyes, and sweet, delicate features. A feudal lord's daughter at that. So innocent… when he'd walked into the room, she'd turned and looked at him with utmost trust and sincerity, and asked him if he was looking for her father. That was the first of many missions where he locked himself in his room afterwards; he'd only been 14, dammit! How could they expect him not to feel anything while slaughtering a completely innocent little girl? It had taken days for him to calm himself and stop the nightmares.

Blue eyes glanced towards the horizon shown outside his window; the earth was rimmed with fire; dawn would come soon. He slipped from between the covers to tread silently across the wooden floor towards the cramped bathroom provided with his room, and performed his morning regimen with only the sounds of rushing water to tattle on his presence. The few belongings he kept with him were packed before two minutes had passed, and he paused only long enough to drop his keys off at the front desk on his way from the seedy residence. Those ANBU nin had chased him for an age the night before; it was a wonder even to him that he'd avoided their detection in the creaky little inn. He brushed aside a lock of blonde hair casually, footsteps moving him towards the wooded border around the small town. He had no intention of eating breakfast; that nightmare—and the feelings that came with it—were enough to rid him of an appetite for a couple of days at the least.

His feet trod noiselessly through the grass on the side of the path; caution had shown him that even little used roads were too dangerous for him. Pathetic really, he'd sometimes find himself thinking; completely pathetic, that even tiny roads running through the woods were no more than a guide to him. The day he became an assassin for hire, roads became ominous enemies to his survival. Eyes traveled to the sky; it was barely past dawn.

_Come to think of it, Sasori-no-danna would've been up earlier…_

He immediately shook the idea from his head. Contrary to popular belief, he quite missed the puppet master, even if the two of them _had_ always bickered like old ladies. Sasori had had his heart broken by parents who didn't love each other, much less himself; he, if anything, thought that the crimes they committed were compassionate, and protected people from what happened to him. Their views on living were just as different as their views on art, and for that reason he pitied his deceased partner. As of now, he had one more mission. Another nightmare to take care of.

There was a small village no more than four or five miles west of his current position. It was a keeping place of ancient, powerful weapons said never to have been remastered in any smithy after their creator's departure for the nether realm. A sword that _created_ chakra, and a shield that incorporated the power from the attacks that hit it into the bearer's body. His objective was to obtain these objects and kill anyone who happened to sight him in the process. It seemed that the most innocent were always in the wrong places at the wrong times when it came to him. He fingered an unraveling string on his bag of clay as he walked, schooling his face into an uncaring guise.

Though truthfully, he cared very, very much.

With a last heavy sigh, the blonde Iwagakure native shot into the trees, taking off for his destination. He needed to get back to base before too long; he was already a day over due. If he finished this assignment by mid-afternoon, it was a possibility that he could be back before dawn with all-night travel. But still, the prospect wasn't pleasing.

* * *

Deidara glanced back at the village.

There just had to be a festival that day. He sighed heavily and turned away. He needed to find the nearest body of water and wash his hands.

The blood was getting sticky.

* * *

**AN: Woot! Chapter 1 got revised! Actually, I revised the whole thing a bit, though chapter two had few enough changes that I'm not going to bother reposting it unless I get a request. The original content has been left mostly untouched. The only changes were for awkward wording, bad grammar, etc. And over the next few chapters, some places where the dialogue totally didn't fit the characters. (I mean, I caught Deidara using middle-English grammar. SO WRONG.)**

**But I'll tell you straight, as it stands, this is still not representative of my current writing style. You'll see CURRENT WRITING STYLE beginning with chapter 7, which should appear out of nowhere very soon. (not really, but I'm seriously working on it, so don't worry.) So... JUST A LITTLE LONGER, I SWEAR.**

**Cheers! ^^**


	2. Desperation

**Chapter 2- Desperation**

It was no good. In his condition, he couldn't make it back. He would be disgraced again when he returned, as always, but they would at least understand what had taken him so long.

After all, he was the laughing stock of the Akatsuki for being so susceptible to emotional distress.

The whole village lay dead now. Two hundred and seventy-eight men and women, sixty-nine children, ten infants. He was a monster.

Pale fingers knit through corn silk hair, palms pressing against eyes that poured out the salty-bitter grief of a rending heart. How could he keep this up? How could he continue to massacre innocent people in their homes for the sake of such ominous evil? These were the nightmares that plagued him, that induced the wretched insomnia that suffocated him. He became the very monster he'd so badly wanted to destroy. But unlike his former target, he made sure to leave no survivors. His was a vicious cycle, and he had no intention of allowing it to continue if such a thing could be prevented.

The world didn't need another S-class criminal to take children from their parents.

_(Thock!)_

His head shot up, eyes immediately wary, scanning his surroundings. The sound had been very small, and barely noticeable, but he was sure that was the echo of a kunai firmly planting itself in a tree-trunk. He quickly doused the fire and grabbed his pack, shooting into the treetops. Two hundred yards to the left, was it? The sound of battle was slowly becoming more apparent. He made his way towards the site. And thankfully he was paying attention; he was forced to step back as a volley of shuriken planted itself in the tree he'd been about to inhabit. Cautiously, he moved a little closer, and glimpsed the combatants.

The Kyuubi vessel.

The Uchiha Heir.

The Medic Prodigy.

They were fighting valiantly against a familiar missing-nin from Mist. Apparently, Akatsuki had gotten a little more antsy than usual, and sent Kisame to find him. But the shark dolt was too fond of battle, and having come across the legendary Team 7, couldn't resist the fight. After all, when Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto and Haruno Sakura had succeeded in killing Orochimaru, their reputations had immediately spread like wildfire. They were each twice as strong as their legendary teachers, and bonded so closely with one another it was known that they would never be torn apart again.

But even so, Orochimaru hadn't been much of anything compared to Kisame or Itachi; and it was that blasted merman they were fighting against. The blonde winced painfully as Samehada slammed into the Uchiha's ribcage, crashing him mercilessly against a stubborn old oak. He was out like a light; more than likely, for several days, if he didn't die from the blood-loss in the next little while. Even there, as the great sword lashed back, the destruction did not end. The all-too-familiar Kyuubi Jinchuuriki, well-surrounded by the fox's chakra, was thrust back into a tree, as well, the momentum so great that one could plainly hear the boy's ribs breaking. A strangled cry escaped his lips before the great red chakra receded, his eyes closing hopelessly in a painful sleep.

All this he watched, a slight interest on his face for the lone kunoichi who now found herself facing a top Akatsuki member with only herself to rely on. But she was the Godaime's apprentice, and had already dispatched Sasori of the Red Sands; she could hold her own against Kisame, right?

_**Holding her own doesn't mean she'll win… or live…**_ his inner mind murmured softly. Whether it was telling him to help the sharkman or take pity on the girl, he could not tell. But, for sure, her wide variety of injuries was a hindrance. And from the scene, a memory long-suppressed returned to haunt him: his mother, fending away the very pair of deadly kodachi that took her life… and the life of the younger brother or sister he'd only been a few weeks away from having.

And before he even knew he'd moved, he was there, standing in front of her kneeling form. Samehada grated against his kunai heavily. He could vividly feel the horror and shock in her eyes as they gazed up at his back. Was he friend or foe? Even he, himself, did wonder. What was the entity that now possessed his body? It commanded, without reason, his actions and words.

"Kisame. Leave them be." Dead black eyes still looked at him, startled.

"Deidara! I was looking for you! What are you saying?" the shark-man asked, grinning sadistically and tapping his sword against his shoulder. It never ceased to amaze the blonde that, despite his crude nature, the monster had decidedly perfect grammar. The smile he had donned faded quickly, however, when he noted his comrade's serious façade. Deidara was typically quite the joker; a serious expression on his face meant a dire situation. "Deidara…?"

The merman was surprised by an unexpected first attack. Before he'd even had time to register what was happening, the artist had formed a fist-sized clay bird and set it flying. Even as heavy as Samehada was, it was still broken in two by the explosives when he defended against the blast. And angry glare made itself apparent as he dropped what remained of his sword to the ground.

"Deidara…! What the h-!"

"I told you. Leave them be." The blue eye that gazed up at him was a terror on its own; the way he emphasized each word slowly was not lost on the man who he attacked. Slowly, he dropped his arm back to his side, eye never leaving his opponent. The harsh rasping of the kunoichi's breathing somehow made him crazy with anger. Every unsure breath communicated her thoughts; why would he help her? What was he thinking? His thoughts followed those patterns, as well, but they were yet the thoughts of an assassin. What possessed his actions now was not that part of him…

… but the part that was a little boy, wanting so badly to defend the ones he loved….

Without his consent, he found himself locked in battle- why did this feeling posses him so fully?- and he pounded away at the Monster of Bloodmist. What were these feelings? He attempted to pull himself back to reality, and become the professional assassin he had always been, but it was impossible.

Freedom… _**It's on the tip of your fingers…**_

Of course; his inner mind whispered these thoughts alluringly, temptingly. If he saved her and her teammates, would that change him a little? What if… he could repent, atone for his sins?

Was it possible?

Did Fate truly leave him an open door that led away from unnecessary bloodshed? Without realizing it, he'd begun to fight harder. Kisame could see his distracted, unfocused eyes, and wondered at the man's strength behind every blow. Even if he tried to pull away, he would not allow it. Unable to get any distance, all the Mist nin could do was defend against his exceedingly quick blows. And that defense was quickly waning.

He was desperate.

Sakura watched the battle that ensued carefully, monitoring the Iwa-nin's actions warily, skeptically. But there was desperation in his movement; of calculation there was no clue. He was careless, obviously- a flank open here, unbalanced footing there, and his obvious distraction. Had it been a faster opponent than the lumbering merman, he surely would've already taken several vital blows. But… he was desperate. He was _defending her_ and he was _desperate_. Why? It didn't make sense.

Freedom… 

_**Don't sacrifice this chance!**_

****

* * *

**AN: Tada! The next chapter of Clay Penance! Okay, so... this is up faster than I've been posting my my ongoing stories lately, and I'm sure you're happy about that, but it was only because I was updating everything else today. (_sighs_) Anywho, please enjoy and review!**


	3. Distrust

**Chapter 3- Distrust**

Deidara stared down at the broken and bloody body of Hoshigake Kisame, his breath coming in shallow, quick pants. One, then two steps taken, staggering backwards. The sun was setting; had the injuries the fox-child and avenger suffered been light enough that a day without treatment would not harm them? Legs shook beneath him, threatening collapse. A small swelling of fear behind him assured his frazzled mind and nerves that the kunoichi, at least, was perfectly fine. Somewhat straining himself to keep his professional demeanor in tact, he moved to pick up the two boys from their resting places, where he had tried his best to assure that they remain undisturbed. A blatant, suddenly spirited protest arose from the kunoichi, but fogged by blood-loss, his brain could not quite decipher the meaning of her passionately stated words. He removed his last exploding bird from the mouth in his hand, and tossed it next to the Mist-nin's body.

"Don't you touch m-!" But he hand already snatched her up under his other arm, leaping backwards nearly-blindly, the clay piece quickly detonating.

There was very little left of the body, his misty eyes confirmed. The kunoichi complained and squirmed violently in his grip, but he did not release her until they were back to his camp. He placed her gently down, and settled her comrades next to her. Stumbling a little towards the fire-pit he'd created earlier, he stirred up the covered coals, throwing on a few more sticks until the blaze rose a ways up again. He shook himself mentally, reminding his exhausted person that he could not disgrace himself by fainting. Carefully attempting to maintain his balance despite injury and chakra depletion, he now crouched tiredly in front of the kunoichi who had not even dared move yet. But after staring at him for a few minutes, she spoke, her tone irritated, clipped and untrusting. Smart girl.

"What do you want with us? Didn't you already get your bijyuu, Deidara?"

He gave a small, tired smirk. She remembered his name, even after three years. How intriguing.

"I've got no use for the Kyuubi, if that's what you're afraid of, yeah." Suddenly feeling even more tired, he shifted to sit before her, dropping the last two or three inches to the ground unceremoniously. Propping his arms on his knees, he swiped his blood-crusted brow across the thick fabric of his cloak. Seemingly open, but completely exhausted blue eyes stared up at her again. "But that aside, would you consider at least healing my injuries in exchange for all the trouble I just went through?"

It amused him when a displeasured look flared beautifully in her once-confused eyes. That fire looked good on her. Suited her. He well understood why her temper was so infamous; she was exquisite when angry.

"As if I would-!"

"Think a bit before you snap, kunoichi. I've just saved your life, yeah. You're a medic, and you'll still sit and watch me bleed to death for your sake?" And of course, despite the seriousness of his question, his eyes glinted playfully. He also heard tell of her very soft heart; it didn't take much effort to press all the right buttons to spur her to action, however unwilling she might be. Her mouth opened once and closed, before she drew in a deep breath and made an obvious and conscious effort of swallowing all forms of retorts and burning pride. Slowly, she moved towards him, easing her pack from her shoulders to the ground beside her. She cast an uneasy glance at her teammates, and he chuckled. "Don't worry; their worst damage is how much chakra the Samehada ate off of 'em, yeah. It's—it _was_—a sword that shaves, not cuts, remember?"

Her cheeks burned. Ah, so she _hadn't _remembered; hmm… then again, maybe she hadn't known in the first place; did she ever fight Kisame save that one time? He thought back, and decided that she probably hadn't. Then again, Kisame was a member of Akatsuki, and Akatsuki was inevitably tied with Orochimaru, who she had surely been researching during the time that Sasuke had been in his grasp. And she was the Godaime's prized apprentice, meaning that this was something that, normally, she would be aware of. He decided he didn't know what that blush meant, and let it go. She worked in silence for a period of time, before it was broken again.

"T… Thank you."

The way she said it so grudgingly was comical, and a grin spread across his face. So cute. He decided then and there that the girl before him was very amusing, and quite worthy of being one of his new playthings.

Then again, she was _awfully dangerous_ for just a _plaything_…

He flinched as she roughly bandaged a jagged wound on his shoulder, and she frowned, forcing herself to loosen the bindings. Strands of pink hair fell out of their hurried, messy ponytail to frame her sweaty, dirt-crusted face as she finished repairing a wound on his inner thigh. The blonde Iwa-nin also decided there that he liked her right where she was.

Especially her hands.

If she'd looked up, she wouldn't have liked the maniacal grin that was slowly spreading across his features. He was an S-class criminal; he could be perverted if he wanted to.

"There. All done," she huffed, scooting back quickly to the sides of her still-unconscious teammates. "Now answer my question! What do you want with us?"

Really, Deidara didn't know what to tell her. 'Just wanted to save you'? 'Felt like doing something good for once'? 'I was bored'? 'Kisame was on my hit-list anyway'? Honestly, if the man had known himself, he probably would've told her already. He scooted over to the tree a few feet to the right of her and leaned against it, sighing.

"If only I knew…" His eyes trailed up to the sky to watch the stars. It was getting darker; night was likely not far off. He smiled sadly, this time. The medic didn't know what to think of him for the moment, and let him continue. "I wasn't really planning to interfere, yeah. Something made me do it, I just don't know what."

She studied him for a while, contemplating his words. Whether he was too well at-ease with lying or was telling the truth she decided she didn't know. It was both easier and safer to assume he was lying, and also the more likely of the two. But as he continued to stare guilelessly up at the gently fading evening sky, his eyes widened a bit and he glanced over at her, excited in a way that made her nervous. A grin toyed with his lips a little.

"If… I asked you a favor, would you do it for me?" he queried, his voice strangely quiet compared to the keyed look shining through on his face. She studied him, and weighing emotion, vulnerability and logic, decided to hear him out. She nodded, and the spark brightened. He started to speak… and paused, before…

"Take me with you."

* * *

**AN: Oh, so nostalgic. I was just looking at the old AN I had up for this, and I was complaining about DeiSaku being such a small fandom with so few quality fanfictions... And since, I've read DeiSaku fics by Cynchick (definitely on here; she does ItaSaku too! GO FIND HER.) and fallen in love. I'm so happy~**

**Here's your repost~ 3  
**


	4. Conflict

**Chapter 4- Conflict**

Of course, he'd half expected the look of outrage on her face. Probably even some very creative uses of her monster strength. Neither of those expectations was disappointed, for sure. Yet after finishing a brief tantrum, she went deadly silent and treated her comrades' injuries without another word to him. Of course, he knew it'd been a long shot when he said it; but before he knew it, he was already asking her without a thought to her reaction. When at last her teammates were treated and tucked safely into their sleeping bags—and a strong genjutsu placed over their campsite for security during the coming daytime hours—she turned and looked at him again. The expression on her face and in her eyes was unreadable; what she was thinking, he could far from guess. He decided, however, that he'd go with whatever she wanted; whether or not to help him, he wouldn't fault her for either choice. So with a mental nod to the ghost of Sasori, he decided to go get cocky again. He was going to place himself completely at her mercy.

"I'm tired," he said, lifting his eyes towards the steadily brightening heavens. "I'll sleep for a little while. Join me? Or are you going to keep watch?"

Her continuing steady gaze was enough to let him know that she wasn't going to let her guard down in his presence. He shrugged mentally, sliding his eyes closed and drifting off.

Sakura stared at him. She could've sworn that this was the _worst_ two days Team Seven had ever experienced, perhaps with the exclusion of Sasuke's escape three years ago. A whole day of being chased by Tuna-chan, and then a whole night of watching Tuna-chan duke it out with the art-freak that killed Gaara. And for whose sake did he fight? Theirs. The irony was horrible, and she didn't like it a bit. And then the proverbial cherry on top.

He wanted her to _take him home with her._

She was sure he couldn't _begin_ to understand how incredulous she was. He was an S-class criminal! He was a mass-murderer! He'd killed the Godaime Kazekage dammit, and he wanted her to take him home with her like some dog that defended her and was following her home for his treat! Inner Sakura was currently silent. She had yet to pick her jaw up off the floor.

Absentmindedly, the medic brushed away a few stray black locks from Sasuke's forehead. He was sleeping so soundly… He probably would've been dead by now if it weren't for the object of all her current troubles having intervened. She sighed. Really, what was one _supposed _to do in a situation like this? When someone saves your life you repay the debt, don't you? But when you've been saved by someone with his face in _literally_ every Bingo Book in existence, what do you do then?

She glanced up at the boy's face, noting his breathing and lax features. How old was he, really? Certainly not much older than her. Twenty-one… maybe twenty-two years old? She had to admit, if he were any other boy she would say that he looked almost endearing right now, the way his ponytail was falling down, his forehead plastered with bandages, and an oblivious smile on his sleeping face.

But for all that's holy and good, this was _Akatsuki no Deidara_! He wasn't supposed to be endearing in any way, shape or form at _all_.

_**Then again, he wasn't supposed to **__**save**__** your sorry ass either, but that's what started this whole mess.**_ Inner Sakura was still trying to process all the information, but she did manage to put _that_ much into her other's mind. The statement had long since been acknowledged; that was why she was debating whether or not to kill him in his sleep or…

Sleep?

It had taken long enough, but Sakura finally realized the gravity of the situation Deidara had put himself in. He was sleeping. _In the presence of a potential enemy_. Deep sleep, at that. She could kill him any time she wished. She could run off and leave him there to wake up alone. She could commit any number of atrocities, including dragging him to Iwa for public execution, and he was sleeping with such a smile that made her think he didn't have a care in the world.

She hated it when people seemed to think they could read her. Was she really so predictable? Another glance was chanced upon the blonde Iwa nin, and a sigh escaped her lips.

Apparently, she was.

* * *

When Uchiha Sasuke's eyes fluttered open, he was fully prepared for visions of either Heaven or Hell, puffy white clouds everywhere or black flames. Never once had it crossed his mind that he would open his eyes upon a warm, late-April day, with sunlight filtering through the sparkling trees to fall in patches around him. To his left, he could see Sakura leaning against a giant oak tree, her emerald gaze hidden beneath heavy lids, brow creased in concentration. Something had to be wrong for her to be sporting _that_ look; it was her "deeply disturbed and concentrating" look, which meant she had probably already been thinking in circles for a while now.

"Sakura?"

The girl startled when he spoke, the look instantly disappearing like always. Her eyes landed on him, and for a moment distraction and surprise plagued them before she smiled. It was off; it didn't reach her eyes, and ended up more or less as a nervous grin.

"What happened?" He moved to sit up, but she immediately stilled his actions.

"Don't move; I don't want you reopening that wound on your abdomen." He eyed her skeptically for a few minutes while she checked his bandages again.

"You didn't answer my question, Sakura." She twitched, but attempted to mould her face into an impassive façade. She wasn't nearly so practiced at it as he. Obviously, she was still avoiding the question.

"We made it out. Naruto's still asleep, but neither of you were damaged too badly."

"And you?" He knew it was suspicious when she hesitated to answer. Usually, she would assure him that everything was perfectly fine right away, even if, really, she were hurt very badly.

"I'm… fine."

"Any injuries that you've neglected to take care of?" She chuckled here. He knew her well, as that was her usual temperament. But she smiled softly down at him, and it was true.

"None. I'm unhurt."

There was barely a second's lag before her eyes widened a fraction of an inch, and she startled, pulling back from him quickly. She knew she'd said the wrong thing. He snagged a hand in the back of her shirt, yanking it until she fell into his chest, concealing a wince as he secured her to his chest.

"Sakura, you're still avoiding the question. What happened?"

Unable to stare at his eyes while being so close to him, she averted her gaze across the camp. Unfortunately, those evergreen orbs landed on the source of all her troubles, and the young man beneath her followed her gaze. Immediately, he tensed, rolling over so that Sakura was under him, eyes quickly bleeding Sharingan red. Sakura calmly covered his eyes, and drew his face to look back down upon hers. The expression she bore was a little painful, but for the most part reconciliation had set in. He stared at her in shock.

"Why? Sakura, he's Akatsuki! Why are you stopping me?"

"Because he saved my life. _Our _lives."

The Uchiha gaped at her openly, before his swirling, powerful eyes averted themselves again to the blonde Iwa rogue.

"Why? What does he want from us? The Kyuubi? You, for Itachi's eyes? I'll kill him first, whether he saved our lives or not!"

"How rude. I never made that sort of request, yeah."

Sakura startled and turned to their savior. His lips curved upwards in a tiny smirk, his eyes still closed. When did he wake up? She was sure she didn't know, but he was indeed awake to hear their conversation. The medic knit her fingers in the shirt of the man above her, and she trembled a bit as a growl seemed to ripple through his body. Deidara lifted his head and gazed at the two, humor glittering in his azure eyes.

"I told Sakura exactly what I wanted. She hasn't given me her answer yet." He smiled a little wider, and she flinched. "Though, I do have the feeling that she's decided to give me what I asked for. Ne, Sa-ku-ra?"

Mirror-wheel eyes gazed at the trembling woman, staring at her, hoping that something would stop the almost-nightmare their wielder was having. But the longer she hesitated, the more he was sure that the Iwa-nin was correct. Whatever he'd wanted from her, she had consented. Red faded to onyx, and he watched her with disdain.

"What did he want?" Deidara chuckled again, standing and stretching, to the discomfort of the Uchiha.

"I'll tell you what I told her. Take me with you."

Silence greeted the nin's bold declaration, but it did nothing to either surprise or dissuade him. A look of fearfully horrified shock had settled upon the face of the Uchiha, and in the moment of his distraction, Sakura removed herself from beneath him, pushing him to lean against a nearby tree. Once she knew Sasuke's reaction everything would be fine. Naruto would listen to the two of them when he woke up, even though at first he would try and tear the bastard to pieces for killing Gaara. The young Uchiha lifted obsidian eyes to beryl and gazed at her, at loss. She sighed.

"He saved our lives, Sasuke-kun. He killed Hoshigake Kisame to save us. Can… we give him at least one chance?"

* * *

**AN: I can still cackle over Sasuke-kun's jealousy, right? XD Here's your edited repost~**


	5. Welcoming

**Chapter 5- Welcoming**

Of course, Sakura's prediction had been almost directly on the mark. It hadn't been as easy for them to calm him down as she had estimated, but her guess at his immediate attack upon consciousness had been bang-on. And, to her chagrin, Deidara was nearly busting a gut he was laughing so hard. Currently, Naruto watched him from across the fire, a predatory look in his eye. It clearly stated that, even if his beloved Sakura-chan and the teme said that he was not to be harmed, he dearly wanted to do the opposite.

And do as much damage as was possible without killing him. _Yet_.

"Sakura-chan—!"

"No, Naruto. Please don't do this. Ne?"

He grudgingly quieted again, and the Iwa-nin gave a snort. Despite the fact that _he _was the one causing all the trouble, he found the situation intensely humorous, and could hardly help but laugh. Of course, that didn't mean _Sakura _was any happier with him; she looked like she dearly wanted to shove one of the dirtiest socks in his mouth she could find, but was restraining herself from following Naruto's lead. After all… in this situation…

Really, if she turned on him, Deidara would have to give up on going to Konoha with them. What exactly it was there that he wanted she still hadn't asked, but as it stood she was his only real ally for the moment.

She hated that obligated feeling she had whenever someone saved her life. Made things much too complicated. Bad for a kunoichi's health.

The medic heaved a sigh, and checked on the provisions she was cooking next to the meager blaze. A few dried fish, since there weren't any rivers nearby, a small pot of various herbs, roots and grasses she's salvaged from the woods, and a rabbit that one of Deidara's clay birds (molded _without_ explosive chakra) had caught. It was a well enough meal for them; she had decided that the soup and fish would go to her convalescing comrades (it'd been a pain to keep Naruto _away_ from the packages of ramen stuffed in her bag), and she would share the rabbit with the missing-nin.

Both boys had protested at that, but she had thoroughly ignored them.

With the night settling in comfortably, Sakura made sure that her genjutsu about the camp had not weakened, and then checked the wounds to be had among her boys. With that taken care of, she rolled out her sleeping bag, preparing for a well-deserved night's rest. Her beryl eyes shot to her new charge across the camp, giving him a pointed look.

"Behave. If you kill me in my sleep, I'm going to use all the powers of Hell and _annihilate _you in the most painful way possible."

And with that, she flipped her back to face the fire, and promptly fell into a light sleep. Naruto shivered.

"Sakura-chan is way too scary when she makes threats like that." Sasuke nodded in agreement, and then perched gently in a tree over the two of them.

"Sleep, Naruto. I'll keep a lookout for tonight."

The blonde nodded without argument, and turned to his own sleeping bag. The two boys had long since reestablished their trust in one another; leaving things in the Uchiha's hands was not considered reckless when it came to the original Team 7. The young man was as reliable now as he had been in their younger days. Deidara eyed him uncertainly; with Sakura asleep, he wasn't really sure whether or not the boy could be trusted. But considering that the raven-child was simply staring at him, a blank look on his face, it was probably alright to assume that, at least for the time being, he was going to honor his teammate's wishes.

"Any particular reason you have for wanting to go to Konoha?"

The blonde snapped his eyes open, darting a glance at the shadowy spot where he was concealed. He shrugged.

"Not really. At least, nothing I wanna share with _you_."

A barely-perceptible growl reverberated from the hidden prodigy, and in a split second the Uchiha was before him, Sharingan whirling dangerously. The blonde wasn't stupid; he knew that this boy could probably beat him to a bloody pulp if he was determined to do it. He had that Sharingan at his disposal, and wasn't half-blind like Itachi from using the Mangekyou. Mentally, he clamped a lid on the fear attempting to rise inside of him.

"Listen here, you. I _just_ got them back; if you harm them or _anyone_ in or of the village, I will personally take pleasure in extending your dying moments longer than any man could stand." Anger seemed to writhe like snakes in his eyes, and darker shades of red swirled like deadly poison. "I would master Tsukiyomi just to kill you slowly."

And with that, he disappeared again into a tree on the other side of the camp. But rather than perching in a branch above Naruto, as he had been before, he draped himself on the lowest branch above Sakura. The nin smirked; something that he did not feel, but had become a learned action. The deadly Uchiha heir was protecting a little pink-haired medic, and it was more than just slightly amusing. But it did not change the fear that had attempted to permeate the surface just a moment before.

_No ill intentions meant at all, yeah; I'm just… really tired of running.

* * *

_

Sakura stuck firmly to Deidara's side all the next day; they were in Konoha territory, and she had the distinct feeling that something, _something_, was going to go dreadfully wrong. And now, the Konoha gates were looming up before them as they stepped from the shadows of the trees, and Sakura quickly slipped her hand in his. A surprised look crossed his face, but he didn't protest, nor did he withdraw or question her. The killing auras rising from both the girl's companions were more than enough for him to keep his comments to himself. But one thing still managed to slip past his lips.

"What're you thinking?"

"I'm not thinking. I'm being a total idiot, and in the meanwhile _praying_ it doesn't get me killed."

He could sympathize. Really, he could. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"If they kill anybody, it'll be me, yeah. Besides, I didn't save you just so you could die on my account when you finally got home." If she glanced up at him, he didn't know it. His eyes were currently scanning the entryway; would they recognize him as Akatsuki, even though he'd stuffed his cloak in his pack? They crossed the gate's threshold, and immediately, he felt someone's rapt attention land on him. The guards stood up and dangerous fires lit in their eyes. He turned back to them this time, though.

"Looks like they know me, yeah. I'll catch up with you later if they don't kill me first."

* * *

"Sakura, WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?"

The three of them cringed as Tsunade's tirade crashed over them. Her honey-golden eyes flared with anger, much as the Uchiha's had the night before. Sakura sighed.

"I didn't know what _else_ to do, Tsunade-shishou. I owed him. He saved _all_ our lives, _and_ killed Hoshigake Kisame."

"It doesn't matter! Damn it all, Sakura! What have I been teaching you these last few years?"

"See? I told you we should've just killed him in his sleep." Beryl eyes spit fire at the blonde Jounin who had dared to speak up. Naruto, however scared of her he was, did not back down from his statement. A statement even Sakura knew was quite true. She sighed, her head hanging a little.

"You know me. I couldn't just betray him like that after he saved our lives. I had any number of opportunities to poison him, stab him, incapacitate him for the rest of his life or even _kill_ him, because he was so trusting towards me," she murmured sadly, before she looked up again into the eyes of her teacher. "But it was his determination to save us combined with his trust in me that made sure I couldn't hurt him. Tsunade-shishou, please give him a chance, if only just for a little while."

The woman wavered. Her student was known for having inherently good judgment; that it would vacate her when she needed it most seemed so improbable as to appear _impossible_. But here she was, begging for the life of… an _Akatsuki_… Someone that had caused her trouble and pain on many, _many_ occasions… Beryl and jasmine locked in a stare, searching and pleading for the reason of one another. The emerald hardened, and darkened to evergreen.

"If he commits any crime against us, his fate will be on my head also."

* * *

The cell he'd been thrown into was, as expected, unpleasant. Not like bones were laying around everywhere, chained to the walls, but more like… dark, dank, cold, depressing and rat-infested. Nothing he wasn't used to and couldn't break out of if he had a mind to, but still.

Besides, breaking out probably would've killed the last of his already small chance at being able to stay.

Out of the entire medieval-style dungeon, the back left corner was the driest, and thus was where he perched. Without his chakra, which had been drained, he could do nothing about such conditions. Beyond the small, barred opening in the metal door, there was nothing but darkness, so thick it seemed nearly a tangible being. The guard and his light passed by every half-hour or so, by his timing. Calculating that, he'd been in this place… a good twelve to thirteen hours. He sighed, and leaned his head back against the wall.

… _She's probably just gonna leave me here, let the ANBU interrogators take my information, and then have them execute me. Oh, well. I don't want this anymore, and I might as well die by the hands of the world's greatest shinobi nation, rather than… well… of old age, or something, yeah. _These morbid thoughts did nothing to ease the slight hurt, of course. He'd thought she was more compassionate than that… might give him a chance. He sighed again. _But, as usual, it appears I underestimated the situation. Sasori-danna was always saying something like that._

For the… fifth or sixth time, he pictured the outline of his little toy in his head, and daydreamed; about her dancing, training, or simply walking. Even something so mundane as serving tea, he pictured her doing. She was, after all, a very interesting kunoichi. But swiftly and sharply, he was jolted from his thoughts at the screech of the door. Hmm… by his calculations, the guard had only passed by fifteen minutes ago…

"You there! Don't waste my time; come on!"

The moment his crystal blue eyes lighted on that illuminated figure, even the guard could see him brighten. Behind her, the Uchiha leaned against a wall, watching him intently, Sharingan at the ready. With a brisk nod, the guard unshackled him, shoving him forward into the monstrously strong grip of the kunoichi. She returned the courtesy before dragging him into a dimly lit corridor.

"Just so you know, I went through hell and high water for this. Shishou wasn't in the _least bit_ pleased with me, and it was probably more trouble than I'll ever go through again." She had tried to sound irritated, but was fairly well failing. Rather, she came off as tired and thoroughly exasperated, but over all, well pleased. The realization of what she was saying couldn't sink in fast enough; they stepped past the last door, and left the building, sunlight blinding him momentarily, and she flipped around to look him in the eye.

"If you don't behave yourself, it'll be _both _our heads, got it?"

* * *

Naruto watched from a window as Sakura proceeded to drag the blonde Iwa-nin in the general direction of the town. It looked like the man was stunned, somewhat; he was following a slight bit hesitantly, but seemed to be recovering quickly enough. The fox couldn't help but narrow his eyes; that… that… _thing_ would be _living_ with her! Behind him, her heard Tsunade down another cup of sake, and he turned to the woman, livid blue eyes branding her with his unease.

"Tsunade-baachan, I really don't like this. It's a disaster waiting to happen, and you know it."

She poured another cup silently, and stared into the clear liquid softly, sadly. In its rippling surface, she could see all her fondest memories with the kunoichi replaying; her breakthroughs, her difficulties… all the training they had gone through together… even her face the morning after their first drinking binge together. They were always together… and when she made mistakes, it was usually because she had the common sense to avoid it, but ignored it.

"I'm going to trust him… at least for a little while. For Sakura." Honey-gold eyes turned to meet smoldering, confused sapphire.

"I know… you want to trust her, too."

* * *

**AN: I can't believe I was still in high school when I originally wrote this... High school seems like... an age ago. *SIGH* But anyway; here's your edited repost~!**


	6. Childish

**Chapter 6- Childish**

On the streets, as Sakura dragged the Iwa-nin from shop to shop; an increasing feeling of unease followed her. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught ANBU watching them, and the Jounin they passed by would stiffen and shift their stances. Chuunin would make almost any excuse, and then leave as fast as dignity would allow. The children weren't oblivious to either the fear or its source, and thus without knowing the reason, they too avoided the peculiar-looking new stranger. She shot a glare at a new Chuunin, and he sat back down in his seat, rather than leaving; he feared her fist and fury more than the unknown behind her.

The civilians in the village were blissfully oblivious to the attention they were receiving, and continued to be of service as if nothing at all unusual were happening. For that, at least, she was thankful.

Deidara watched his new find with great interest; for someone doing something against her will, she was certainly doing it avidly. He chuckled at the thought; even though it had been against her better judgment to help him, she was doing it to the best of her ability now that she had decided to. Even going so far as to defend him against the Hokage and the villagers… she was definitely a peculiar one. He didn't really care what other people thought; he would change their minds. That was what he wanted.

To… be a true shinobi… to have a _home_ again.

"Sakura."

At the same moment, both turned to look at a tall kunoichi with russet hair. She held up a kunai holster disdainfully, her milky brown eyes watching them carefully.

"Tenten? Why are you…? Shouldn't you be at your smithy?" A rude snort.

"Yeah, I should be, but I had to come see your little souvenir for myself. Lee bet me two hundred that your bringing home an S-class criminal was a false rumor." She sighed and tossed the pack at the younger girl. "I'm sorry to say that this is one bet I would rather have lost."

To both of their surprise, Deidara _laughed_.

"I'm sure that's what everyone's thinking. Well, when I asked to be brought here I didn't expect things to be easy."

Tenten was left gaping at their backs as they walked away. Sakura called over her shoulder, promising to pay her later for her work, and then they were gone, disappearing into the people milling about the streets.

"You… did you really not have any reason for saving us?" He wasn't perturbed by her question; she wasn't being mean about it, but more like she was just making sure. If he'd wanted to, he could've easily avoided it and she would've let him.

"At the time, all I did was jump in. I couldn't even really think straight. If you'd gone a dozen or so miles up the road, I'd just got through—"

"Destroying a village? I know. The ANBU OPs checked it out after we found those weapons in your possession. Shishou was familiar with it, and we sent a messenger hawk to a nearby outpost." He nodded distractedly in approval of their actions.

"I've… never really liked killing. It doesn't matter much when it's an adult, especially a man, but women—worse, _kids_—give me nightmares. And… there were so many of them there…" She noted quietly that, despite his face falling into an impassive look, his hands were fisted and shaking. Strong emotions, strong enough to overcome years of training, were causing his professional calm to crumble. It happens to even the best shinobi.

This man was no different.

The serious atmosphere was abruptly destroyed by a little girl crashing into the former missing-nin, running from her friends in a game of 'ninja.' A glance at her surprised and innocent face almost made him giddy.

He would never have to betray this child.

"I'm sorry, mister!" She backed away quickly and bowed, eliciting a throaty chuckle. He knelt before her as her friends stood a little way off, uncertain about the new face. Ruffling her hair, he smiled.

"Don't worry about it."

She smiled brightly, and returned to playing with her friends, casting him a second glance over her shoulder as she left. The grin on his face widened quite perceptibly, and it did not escape the attention of his benefactor.

_He's smiling so brightly… It's amazing that he smiled like that for her. _She recognized a child from the Academy; a first year student. She showed promise as a genjutsu user, actually; it seemed that they were already planning to put her in another cell under Yuuhi Kurenai.

"I think she'd make a great assassin." The way he said it was very frank, and the medic went pale before she looked at his face again. He winked at her and stuck out his tongue. "She's got light footsteps. Good balance, too. And with a doll-face like that, she'd never be suspected in an undercover op."

His reasoning thoroughly explained—and her jaw left thoroughly slack—he stood and dusted off his knees, and headed in the general direction of the street corner. In all honesty, he had no _idea_ where he was going, but it was the effect that counted. He could hear the woman let loose a disgruntled growl behind him before jogging to catch up.

"If they see you wandering off, they won't be happy, you know."

She was, of course, referring to the ANBU OPs strategically observing them. His grin didn't dissipate in the least.

"And? I knew you'd come after me." He stopped and turned to look at her, arms folded behind his head and a grin plastered on his face, the few light shopping bags hanging from his wrists providing a colorful background for his canary-colored mop. Right then, he reminded her for all the world of Naruto. "Besides, I'd get lost within thirty steps of myself here! I've never been in Konoha before. It's really big!"

She could've _gawked_, as childish as he sounded; but the seemingly honest smile on his face was just too sweet to ruin. A sigh, and she could feel an exasperated smile tugging at her lips.

I must be going soft already…

"Anything else you can think of you might need?" With a façade firmly back in place, she gave him a pouting look, hands-on-hips, in an illustration of how unwilling she wished she _could _be about trusting him. His smile disappeared, replaced by a thoughtful look, which was replaced with yet another, though smaller, smile two seconds later.

"Nope; I think I'm good."

She turned, walking off to the right—quite the opposite direction from the way he'd intended to head—and without thinking he quickly followed her down the dusty street. It was wide, but the area was now residential, and not quite as busy as the shopping district. People passed them by, walking, jogging, running, skipping to their destinations, wherever it might be. A few children shot out in front of them from a side alley, kicking a ball around with high spirits, shrieking in delight.

I can watch them with the eyes of a man… instead of an assassin…

That thought alone left him slightly dazed. It made him… _happy_…

"Oi, Deidara-san, you'll be left behind if you don't move. I'm only responsible for your actions, not what the ANBU might do to you." He startled, and jogged up to her, smiling sheepishly; he hadn't even realized his delay. To him, her face said '_What do you think you're doing, spacing out like that?_'

Sakura was actually thinking, _He's too cute. Far too cute. For his good or mine, either one._

She unlocked the door and stepped through, immediately stumbling over an unnoticed piece of clothing, much to her charge's surprise.

Though it wasn't quite as surprising when he finally got a good look at the inside of her apartment.

"… For some reason, it's wall-to-wall chaos in here…"

"I'm only a neat freak when I have to be. Which is whenever I'm on a mission or at the hospital." _Obviously not when she's at home, considering that the only place that looks to be in decent shape is the bookcase…_

Sakura picked her way across the thoroughly messed living room towards the kitchen on the other side, settling down her share of the shopping bags in the midst of her already paper-strewn table, taking the two sacks of edibles she'd procured to her relatively empty pantry and half-pint refrigerator. The door closed with a smart _whap_, and her boots tattled on her as she quickly bounced on tip-toe across the living room again, to where he still stood at her open door. She stopped directly before him, swinging a foot behind his knees and kicking the door shut as she held up an icy ramune to his warm cheek. She stepped back a little and opened her bottle, holding it up in a toast.

"Welcome home, Deidara-san."

* * *

**AN: AND HERE'S THE LAST OF YOUR EDITED UPDATES. I'm getting them all done at once, and then we're gonna rock n' roll on getting the next chapter out! *evil grin* Or so I hope. DON'T LET ME PUT IT OFF. PLEASE. I'M SERIOUSLY BEGGING HERE.**

**And buy my books when they come out. 8D  
**


	7. Observation

**Chapter 7- Observation**

"Deidara-san, if you don't get up _this minute_ I'm going to leave you."

His blue eyes cracked open, and glanced out the guest-bedroom window. It was still _dark_ outside! He groaned and turned over to look at the peeved medic.

"Sakura-chan, it's not even _daylight_ out yet…"

"No, it isn't. But I've got a shift at the hospital starting in 45 minutes, and if you're not coming I'm leaving you here to be assassinated by whoever thinks they can get away with it."

"Aww, you'd take revenge for me?"

"No. I just don't like people coming into my apartment without permission."

She was already out the door, and missed seeing the pout on his face. But he climbed out of the bed and tried only half-successfully to ignore the freezing cold wooden floors. The dresser across the room was bare except for a hairbrush and a single holster, and somewhere in the back of his head, a whisper said it needed pictures and keepsakes to clutter it up a bit. Two things he would begin collecting very soon. But for now, he opened a few drawers, pulling out a change of clothing, and then took to the bathroom for a morning shower, which managed to go absolutely _frigid_ when he was only halfway through. When he told Sakura, her response was:

"That's because this hot water heater serves for two households. We live in a duplex, y'know. The neighbors are civilians, and the dad takes his showers in the mornings. Your best bet is to get up earlier than he does."

"And when is that?"

"Listen for his alarm tomorrow and you'll know." She was grabbing her keys already, and he had no choice but to skip what he had _hoped_ would be the first relaxing breakfast since… well, since quite a while, anyway. He couldn't even remember the last time he _had_ breakfast, much less the last relaxing one.

The walk to the hospital was quieter than he expected. It seemed most people really _were_ still in bed at this hour, and it wasn't just laziness settling in early. Sakura's swift, solid strides carried her quickly and without hesitation; though as he followed, even without standing beside her, he noticed that she was actually quite small. He didn't have any room to talk, mind you; he was only 5'5" himself. So… basing it on an artistic guess, he mentally declared her 5'3".

He kept up with her power-walk, but didn't get beside her. He watched her, but made sure his gaze wasn't intense enough to get her attention. One could possibly call it his version of humble obedience, but it would never last for long. Right now… he was just _observing_.

Her name was Sakura, and it suited her complexion well, at least. The former Iwa-nin wondered what sort of gene pool could pop out her lovely coloring, but there wasn't even a vague possibility of him asking. Her skin looked like it wouldn't hold a tan no matter how many hours she spent under the sun, which was amusing. And contrary to what he'd remembered about her appearance, she wasn't doll-like at all. There was a slightly angular set to her features, and her eyes were more slanted than she probably wanted. A sly, cat-like quality.

Well, instead of sly… Intelligent. Unlike her name, she didn't look fragile at all.

A smile quirked his lips. She was definitely different, his new _toy_.

* * *

"Sakura-sama, this chart-?"

"Goes to room 408's Giichi-san. Someone mixed it up with room 804's Kiki-chan. They must've glanced at it wrong. Hamura-obaa-chan in ICU needs to get checked on by the nurse on duty every _half-hour_, and inform me of any changed immediately. That heart attack she had may be peanuts to the injuries we get, but it looks like it shut part of her heart down. I refuse to take chances. And _this_," she held out a five-inch thick stack of manila folders, her eyes never leaving the medical chart she was reading, "needs to go to Inuzuka Kiba. He came by for a check-up the other day, and left this paperwork here. I won't say it was on purpose, but I'm sure he understands that's what I'm thinking."

"Also, Sakura-sama…"

"Yes?"

"Who…?"

"My new pet. Think of him as an overgrown kitten or a potted plant. Just ignore him and go on with your work."

"… Yes ma'am…"

Deidara had to sulk. Just a _little_, at least. "Who's a potted plant?"

"Don't grumble. I also suggested overgrown kitten." From the rickety pipe chair in the corner, Deidara had a difficult time suppressing the desire to stick his tongue out at her back. Sakura'd been staring at that desk for the last _nine hours_. They hadn't even gone for lunch. He'd shout it to the whole damn village here in a minute.

"I'm _hungry_."

"Nice to meet you, Hungry."

His futile attempts to get her to put down paperwork were getting simpler. At first, he'd tried wandering off in the hospital. Sakura waited for him to slink back to her office, and then sighed when Shizune appeared behind him in a rage. The patients were too disturbed, the staff was practically on red alert, and the summary of it meant he was, for the remainder of the day, confined to Sakura's office.

Damn it, he wanted _food_, but she hadn't stopped doing paperwork longer than it took to pop her back and grab _one_ cup of water _the whole time_. Not even when someone was talking to her. He growled.

"Sakura-chan, it's two in the afternoon, and I haven't eaten for the last twenty hours. If you didn't have breakfast, you haven't either, yeah. It's time to _eat_. If you were your own doctor, you'd be saying that, right?"

Oh praise God, her pen stopped.

"Five minutes."

* * *

"What happened to five minutes? That was five _hours_ ago."

She was the one sulking now. Deidara looked about as happy as a wet cat, but when one boiled it down, he had been _extremely_ patient. In the end, he'd stolen her pen, broken it in half, and then proceeded to _drag _her out of the clinic. It seemed that her actual shift had ended more than six hours ago. Chieko, one of the desk workers, had chanced a wobbly smile when she spoke to him.

"_I bet… no one told you how much of a workaholic Sakura-sama is, did they?"_

"Your _pet_ will die if you don't make sure it gets three meals per 24-hour period, Sakura-chan." She blushed and grimaced, but didn't say anything. Good. She was reflecting. Deidara sighed, and decided he would forgive her. It was nice knowing that someone had common sense enough to recognize their mistakes. "Well, if you don't want to eat out just say so. I'll cook for you at home."

"You can cook?"

"Every bachelor should be able to cook his own meals."

"I'm sure you're one of the very few of that opinion."

Deidara didn't say anything to that. From the look on his face, she guessed he was used to that opinion, and probably laughed at people when they realized they should've followed his example. She could quite see where it would come in handy, both from a personal _and_ professional standpoint.

They made a stop by Ichiraku, and surprisingly, Naruto wasn't there. The tenchou said Konohamaru had come to retrieve a to-go order for he and the Hokage an hour or so ago, and Sakura had to ask how that worked.

Apparently, it was assigned as a D-rank mission to his team. Konohamaru, Moegi and Udon each had a container in both left and right hands, and Moegi with the best balance had a third on her head.

Deidara's jaw may have gone slack, but the best Sakura could manage was a grave, pitying nod. She'd had to master that technique herself; though eventually she discovered his kage bunshin no jutsu was good for even more extra-combat purposes than she originally thought.

The meal was… pleasant. The old man was at ease around Deidara, which came from his civilian background… but it was more than that, she thought. She'd noticed it the day before, but the former Iwa-nin was very… child-like. Not innocent in the ways of the world, but in the ways of _normal people_, it seemed he was ignorant. Common courtesy almost seemed to mystify him. The easy smiles of the old grandpa behind the counter made him smile in return, and when he did it was with the sparkling purity of a kid. A sweet kid, that didn't have any idea of the evils around him. One that had never seen bloodshed, but maybe… maybe had also never known love. Or maybe he _had_ known love… and then lost it.

In the muted natural lighting of paper lanterns, his hair glowed a tawny color, deep, like the color of wheat. His blue eyes were so deep and clear that she vaguely remembered a festival one year, where she'd been sitting alone in a castle's courtyard, luring out an enemy; she'd been standing on a bridge, staring into the most beautiful koi pond she'd ever seen, when fireworks when up and lit the water all the way down to the rocks. It was that same look, with the light and the sparkle of laughter lighting up his eyes.

Sakura wouldn't lie. There was a lot of difference between the current Deidara and the one she remembered from the ANBU Bingo Book pictures; even between the current him, and the one she remembered from their brief skirmish at the sealing statue before he escaped. He also seemed different from every profile she'd ever been given. He wasn't an explosive personality. He didn't seem to be the 'attack first, ask questions later' type. Those were the descriptors she'd been given. When Sasuke killed Orochimaru and returned to the village, he'd brought back enormous amounts of information with him—especially on Akatsuki. She'd memorized those files so thoroughly she could quote them backwards letter for letter if need be.

Deidara, former Iwagakure ninja. Received into the village for official training at age 8, graduated Academy six months later. Attained rank of Jounin at age 13. Defected for reasons unknown, though by Sasuke's report it was because he wanted "more freedom to perfect his art," meaning his explosives. Entered Akatsuki at age 15. Currently age 19.

He was known for explosives, and aerial espionage. A top shinobi, one of the top ten in the world at least.

He was only three years her senior. How amazing.

Sakura thoughtfully sipped a cup of sake, not bothering to hide that she was staring. He couldn't say anything against her anyway, and it appeared that with his mood lifted, he did not intend to. His eyes, which had always seemed extremely cold and malicious in pictures, now glowed with a gentleness that was actually starting to unnerve her.

_Why_ was he so different? Why did he come here? He said he didn't really have a reason for saving them, but for coming _here_—for going through everything that had and would possibly continue to happen—what sort of reason did he have? What made him become Akatsuki, and then take a chance with his own life in making a way to escape? What made him seek an enemy both past and present as a hand of saving grace?

This mysterious, childish man was taking up all of her thought-processing power, and it was beginning to piss her off.

So instead of pouring another cup of sake, Sakura picked up and downed the whole bottle in a few long draughts, before scarfing down the remainder of her now slightly soggy miso ramen.

"Gochisousama deshita."

"You're always welcome, miss. Sorry Naruto couldn't be here to eat with you; you two are always so lively, and seem to have so much fun."

"Lively yes; fun is relative. I don't call it fun when I have to haul him home after two bottles of sake and seven bowls of pork ramen. He's heavy." The old man chuckled, though his hands never stopped kneading new dough. She sighed and stood. "The food is amazing as always, tenchou-san. Have a good evening."

"Take care, Sakura-san. And you too, Deidara. I hope you settle in quickly."

Sakura gave the young man a pointedly curious look; but he just smiled brightly, said a word of parting, and slipped out past the low-hanging curtain behind the stall's seating area. She followed him without comment, however. Like he had done previously, she walked just slightly behind him; yet like before, she observed him without hiding her stare. He was either extremely dense or was ignoring it. She didn't have a preference, though she wished she knew more about him.

His shinobi track record, his stats, his techniques; those were things that she knew. Those were things she could find out through any half-decent snitch on the street. Hell, most Jounin—ANBU-ranked or no—could tell you that sort of thing.

What she wanted to know, she couldn't find out from observation.

* * *

**AN: ... Yes, I finally. Things happened, like a day at work so horrible I cried, and before that I hit a stride in drawing so I spazzed over it for a couple of days. I have a lot of things to work on. Like the four or five DeviantArt contests I've entered myself in. T_T; One thing to praise God for: my chapters have gotten longer. ^^ I was going to make this one longer than it is, but I decided this was a decent stopping place, it would make transition easier, and it would keep the story from rushing so much. On TOP of the "They want to read this, so I should hurry up and get the lead out." So enjoy.**

**Next Time: **_The Face of Repentance_**  
**


	8. The Face of Repentance

**Chapter 8- The Face of Repentance**

Sakura stared at the kitchen table.

… When the hell did he find the leaflet that went in the middle? That'd been buried so long she forgot she had one.

Her former 'breakfast' table was out to its first-ever-seen full size, and loaded with a breakfast to make an anorexic drool. The sink that'd been a mountain of dishes was clean and clear, and the coffee cups on the table were steaming merrily, right beside the piping-hot dishes. An exceedingly smug Deidara leaned against the counter.

"Every bachelor should be able to cook for himself."

"You're not starting a bed and breakfast, are you?"

"Nope."

"Sad. You'd get rich."

* * *

Between Naruto and Sasuke checking up on her—with the addition of an occasional gawker or gossip rag reporter—Sakura and Deidara rarely had any time to themselves, especially with her workaholic tendencies. In the last few days, she'd gotten comfortable enough to leave him at the apartment, instead of boring him to death at the hospital all day. In exchange, she came home to a clean house and a fabulous dinner.

Deidara wasn't one to sit around and accomplish nothing. He'd read half her medical texts already, after plowing through _all_ her fiction books… including the harlequin romance books that Ino never failed to buy her for her birthday every year. He was practicing his chakra control and using her Academy notes as a manual, which she found amusing to no end.

Ah, but if the truth were told they didn't have the "perfect" relationship. The argument over the thermostat was endless. Deidara was too used to the cold northern temperatures, and it was in frequent conflict with Sakura's heat-loving southern blood. There was a coat now permanently glued to the back of the couch, and before she'd taken three steps into the house every day it was on, zipped and buttoned all the way up to her chin. After the first couple of days, Deidara had learned to compromise; he would turn it up just enough that he wasn't too hot, and she wasn't huddled in a parka. Sakura was a good sport about it, at least. She let him have his way about it, though her glares were second-to-none.

There were also the occasional conflicts over bathroom time, and hot water especially. Sakura was convinced that _no_ man should spend so much time on his hair. Deidara was convinced that Sakura had lost her femininity somewhere, since the most time she spend on her face was a washcloth for scrubbing and mascara to make her naturally pale pink lashes dark. She even said that she wouldn't wear the mascara if she didn't have to; she looked like she was still asleep otherwise, and that simply wouldn't do for a professional like herself. The one time Ino had stopped by since he moved in had proved amusing; she'd caught them in the middle of such an argument, and found a kinship with the mad bomber on the subject.

They'd even discovered each other's number one "don't push this button if you value your life" phrases. Anything that mentioned Sakura's somewhat small height, chest or age and the word 'weakness' together was a major no-no. Likewise, there were two landmines they were nearly as explosive as Deidara himself: don't insult his art, and don't doubt his sexual orientation.

Nothing had settled in around them yet. Deidara still had to have his guard up to go to the corner grocery store. Ino usually took pity on him and walked him there and back. Aside from her, things were still chaotic. The outside reaction compared to what she lived with every day… were nearly opposites, and it was nearly as amusing as it was frustrating.

The medic pinched at the bridge of her nose tiredly, her face screwing up at the headache she was dealing with. It had been a normal, everyday sort of day; ah, well, with the exceptions of a youth speech from Gai-sensei and Lee (yes, she had unfortunately been double-teamed), and an oddly ill-natured Kiba and Akamaru. The dog-nin was sniffing around her quite literally, and the only guess she could make was that the two were checking on her physical condition. It wasn't really surprising that people were worried about her… seriously, Deidara _was_ an S-class criminal and part of the most powerful criminal co-op known to mankind… but the difference between the image and the man was becoming ridiculously wide.

Six days. It had only been six days, had already been six days… yet it felt like she'd gained herself a spoiled little brother instead of a criminal sponger.

"I'm home!"

"Welcome back. You're home early." She tossed her shoe at him, which he caught easily. "I'm not saying it's a bad thing, oh master of the house. I'm genuinely surprised and pleased that it hasn't been more than two shifts since we last saw each other, yeah."

"Your eyes say 'wow, she's back. Yippee skip,' with the most sarcastic tone I've ever seen." He grinned.

"It's your imagination, I swear."

"So what's for dinner? I smell curry."

"Curry it is; beef with finely chopped vegetables and white rice. I also borrowed what was apparently your favorite cream puff recipe from Ino-san today for good measure, yeah." Oh, that little devil. She could just hug him right now.

"I don't know if I should hit her or hug you."

"I could go for a hug, yeah."

He was joking and they both knew it. Were they comfortable enough to do something like that? No, she didn't think so. He set her shoe by the front door properly before turning back to the kitchen, not even waiting for a response. Sakura let the subject drop. This kind of conversation always got uncomfortable if it continued, no matter whom you were talking to. She grabbed her jacket from the back of the couch and wrapped herself in it, settling into the cushions with a journal from her bag. She recorded thoroughly what their lifestyle was like; who knew what would happen later? Without hesitation, she included their playful banter.

Her pen stopped, and for a minute she just listened to the quiet sounds of cooking. A week and a half ago, she would have tried to kill this man on sight. What had happened?

He'd saved the lives of her entire team.

He'd killed one of the top 10 most dangerous shinobi in the world in the process.

He'd fallen asleep in the presence of an enemy on purpose, leaving his life in her hands.

He obeyed her commands, acted like a child half the time, a housewife the rest of the time, and gave off the vibe of a total Average Taro. He only pressed her buttons for amusement, and sparingly. He was always smiling at her. Damn it, who flipped the world's axis upside down last Tuesday?

"Sakura-chan." Oops, she almost screamed. "Dinner's ready. You're gonna eat something, right? Did you remember to eat any time today?"

"Woops…" He sighed.

"You're a doctor, but you don't take care of yourself? Hypocrite." She sulked. "Come on, then. I'll give you an extra helping of rice."

She was being babied. Usually that was something that would, without fail, get under her skin. At this point, however, she had learned something: Deidara made his point, and followed it with a plan on how to fix it. Effectively, he would continue calling her a hypocrite and babying her until she stopped forgetting to eat properly.

_He's so damn domestic… seriously._

"What's so important to you about meals, anyway?" He was just setting their plates down when she asked, and there was a visible hesitation. The smile dropped off his face, which was surprising; his expression froze in muted shock for a moment… and then he sat down, eyes carefully blank.

"It's not important."

"Deidara-san, look at my face. It should illustrate the most _unimpressed_ look of disbelief you have ever seen." He ignored this comment by saying his thanks for the food and eating. The subject was apparently closed. Sakura didn't like it; he had a personal reason after all, and personal of any sort was _too_ personal, apparently. More than not liking it… it kind of pissed her off. Really. "You might as well come out with it, Deidara-san. I want to know why you act the way you do, and I find this to be most relevant to that quest."

His hand hesitated before continuing its ascent to his mouth. No comment. Sakura continued to wait without eating, and eventually the former Akatsuki finished his plate and took it to the sink, cleaning it perfectly before setting it on the counter to dry.

"If you need anything, I'll be in my room."

With that, he disappeared down the hall. Sakura sighed, got up to reheat her curry and rice, and ate her meal in silence.

* * *

The next day or so was uncomfortable. Deidara was much more formal than he'd been before, which she supposed meant that personal matters really _were_ off-limits between the two of them. His stiff "be careful" as she walked out the door for the midday shift left her feeling almost as guilty as it did pissed, and that was something that made her even more irritated. Who was _he_ to not answer her questions? She was the reason he was _able_ to come to Konoha without consequences!

Every curse that she'd ever heard (and the list was long, since she'd been around Naruto, Tsunade and… ah, Tenten… so long) was currently running through her head, all directed at one irritating, blonde, S-class criminal sponger.

Sakura's pen was starting to rip holes in important hospital documents, so she spun her swiveling office chair around to face the window and crossed her legs in her seat. No arms equals quick meditation cushion. It was roughly an hour before she felt her ki calm enough to work again, so she turned back around and got straight back to business. Who cared if this was supposed to be her lunch hour? She doubted if Deidara's spirits would have lifted enough by evening to scold her. The thought appealed to her devilish side, and what thoughts might have once revived her irritation soothed her instead.

Her slow day at the hospital (and the long hour of meditation) had relaxed her enough that she walked home in a much perkier mood than she'd left with. On the way, she stopped by her favorite shop and bought a slightly-more-expensive-than-usual bottle of sake to share with her housemate and hopefully make amends. Even happier to have a bottle of alcohol under her arm, she _skipped_ the rest of the way to her apartment door. Opening that door, however, proved to be its own surprise.

The smells of traditional Japanese cuisine filled the place. The distinct smell of _ishikari nabe_ and steamed white rice met her nose, delicate and robust in its own way. Damn, he must've gone to the morning market before she'd even _left_ if he got salmon this fresh. Closing the front door silently (which was pointless really, since she'd opened it with quite a bang in her cheerful mood), she moved over to the kitchen door to sneak a peek.

Damn, it was just _not right_ for a man to look that good in an apron. Not right at all.

Putting aside the tiny bit of seething jealousy, Sakura examined with her nose what he was making. Definitely _ishikari nabe_. With the good stuff, the traditional way, no cut corners. Did he get fresh herbs, too? Oh, the smell of _shungiku_ was making her mouth water. She could see the pot steaming merrily away in the middle of her dining room table while Deidara moved back to the other side of her kitchen, setting some water on the stove and dropping in a couple of tea packets. He was bringing out the _good brand_ of peach tea; at the same time she was seething for him knowing her so well, she was embarrassed because it was obvious he was trying to make up with her. Wasn't it supposed to be that the way to a _man's_ heart is through his stomach? Sakura stared at the back of his head, wishing she could get a good look at his expression as he checked the timer on the oven.

Wait a sec. She just now (stupidly) noticed, but the house was actually _warm_. It felt like the warm end of springtime, in fact. He'd actually made it a bearable temperature. The good mood that had accompanied the purchase of good sake just kept getting better.

Instead of his hair covering his face, it was all pulled back—something she never thought she'd see—and her old hitai-ate from her genin days (for all that's good and holy, she couldn't understand how he found it) was slanted over his eye as a makeshift patch. Damn if that didn't remind her of Kakashi… She sulked at that thought. Kakashi-sensei was still out on a mission, and hadn't even met her lovely houseguest. The young man rested his hands on the counter, half-hovering over the pot of tea on the stove.

"I'm sorry."

He stiffened as her words broke their silence. Sakura waited patiently at the doorway for his response, however; if she stopped and thought about it, without personal feelings and her (short) temper getting in the way, she'd asked something personal when he was barely an ally, much less a friend. As familiar as they'd gotten, it didn't mean that they were best buds just yet. She'd really just gotten ahead of—

"It's okay."

Sakura's thoughts died in their tracks. This was that side of Deidara that made her wonder how he'd ever become an S-class criminal. His cat-like, unnaturally blue eye softened so beautifully, and showed him to be near tears though she couldn't understand why. His smile was true—not a smirk—and he faced her with an expression as though he hadn't been so happy in years.

… _Okay, what the hell?_

She'd just apologized for prying. That was it. Why'd he look like that? That was much too elated a face for just an apology for _prying_.

_No good. Brain short circuit. I give up. Let me eat, get drunk, and sleep it off. The world will make more sense tomorrow._

They came pretty close to doing that. Deidara cooked enough for an army, and between the two of them they demolished it. The sake afterwards was sinfully wonderful; seriously, the price tag is proof of the difference. Once she felt a little pickled, she played dumb and suckered him into a few games of poker—which she won. He sulked because he lost, and then went to take his frustrations out on the dirty dishes. Sakura lolled on the floor, feeling happily useless for once, quite relaxed in a spaghetti-strap top and sleeping shorts. Like a kid, she shoved her head upside-down on the floor to watch him wash the dishes, tipsy and happy in a "que sera sera" kind of way. She was so relaxed that, at first, she totally missed the sharp rapping on the door. Her ears were too busy enjoying the sounds of dishwashing and quiet curses of frustration. However, the second time properly caught her attention when a shout came rolling through behind it.

"Sakura-sama! Sakura-sama, its an emergency!"

She groaned. The good buzz was gone. With one sentence she was already starting on her hangover. With a few awkward movements that were not the least bit ninja-like, she got to her feet and stumbled grumpily to the front door. It opened on the distressed face of a runner—or rather, a nurse that part-timed as a runner. He was a semi-familiar face, distress signals and all. A completely un-urgent sigh left her lips.

"What's the emergency? Unless we suddenly have the Akatsuki attacking us, I doubt it could be that scary."

His expression said he thought she was speaking blasphemy against her own profession. She did not particularly care; in all honesty, she was probably even more of a crack doctor than her shishou. "It's Okamoto-san! She's going into a premature labor!"

"How far along is she?" His face got a degree paler, and her eyes sharpened on him. "I asked you how far along she is, rookie. Answer me."

"… 25 weeks." Barely over six months. Sakura growled as she spun around and grabbed her coat and Deidara's arm, dragging him out the door with her. Before he even registered what happened, she had forced the blonde down onto his knees and was crawling on his back.

"Sakura—?"

"Shut up. Get me to the hospital now, so I can spend the time getting sober and un-hungover."

"But—!" He was cut off this time, not by her voice, but by a nicely delivered kick to the gut. She did not even wait for him to stop spluttering.

"Move, _now_."

He followed orders with a small wince, and the messenger was left in the dust as he took to the rooftops. On his back, Sakura was using a bit of chakra to ease her headache and speed up metabolism; the short flare and fluctuation was indicator enough. The few blocks between her apartment and the hospital were crossed in a few short minutes, but she stopped him before he jumped down from the last roof.

"Don't bother. One story up is the sixth floor. That window dead-center is in the nurse's station for the maternity ward; I don't care if you break it, just get me up there."

"One broken window, coming right up!"

"No clay, please."

"Now that's no fun." He smirked, following orders. Two steps, one leap, and a very big crash later, he was on the maternity ward floor and Sakura was standing up cool as you please, already grabbing medical files and moving on as if she had just walked through the front door. The nurses had scrambled back into corners; no one seemed willing to help him, so he just helped himself. Avoiding broken glass as much as possible, he stood and dusted himself off, casting around for a broom and dustpan. If it were not a hospital, he would not have bothered; however, he decided that 'emergency facilities' should demand a place in the top three of 'things I respect.' After all, his guardian was a doctor. Her workplace should be taken care of. "Ah… Over there, Miss… ah, Satou-chan, could you find a broom for me? I'll clean this up."

Nurse Satou stared, wide-eyed and bewildered, and did not move. Alright, so that irked him. He didn't ask much, just for a broom. Maybe directions to the broom closet? Honestly, she could put aside preconceptions for that—

"SHIT!"

Without permission from anyone, Deidara darted towards Sakura's shout the second he heard it. The room was a regular one; apparently there hadn't even been time to move the expectant mother to a private one. The poor old woman that had been in the next bed over was being carefully but quickly shuffled out the door. Sakura barked for a nurse to "_Get the hell out and go find her husband_," but after that referred to no one without necessity. Her orders kept every single person in the room moving aside from him. Above her orders, the mother's screams were rising. The sound of medical equipment rattling and beeping was giving him a headache. The smell of blood and sweat was going to his head. He became acutely aware of when Sakura reached between the woman's legs, and suddenly cursed again.

"Damn it all! Youka, give her a local! We need to operate, stat! It's a nuchal cord!" Sakura was aware of a crash to her right, but didn't have the time to worry about it. This situation could get dangerous for the baby if they didn't get a move on. She growled at one of the nursing trainees as she started to unravel beneath the pressure. "Hanna, if you aren't going to be any help, you'd better get out of this room faster than a bat out of hell. Understood?"

With barely more than a jerky nod, she made a mad dash for the door. Sakura's eyes narrowed for the bare second that she caught a glimpse of her housemate. Apparently, that crash had been Deidara, as he fell back against the room door and slid to the floor. His eyes were wide, and he was even paler than the message runner that'd gotten them earlier. If he didn't already look like he was going to have a heart attack, she would've sent him running, too.

The number of nurses in the room had decreased, and the ones that were there had their hands full; two were monitoring vital signs and trying to calm the poor woman, and one was prepping to help her with the Cesarean section. Sakura backed up and got to her feet, heading for the sink.

'This is one damn royal mess. Deidara's back to looking like a ghost; and just as we were getting back on good terms, too. I hate maternity ward. When I get out of here, remind me to have my tubes tied,' she seethed, and the alternate side of her personality agreed sagely. Her hands were soon clean, and she stomped back to the patient without a moment to lose. The gown was open, her belly exposed. In all honesty, she was worried about how _big_ the woman was, but without hesitation, she channeled her chakra into a scalpel at the tips of her fingers.

The cut was clean; between the local and all her other pain, Okamoto Mei didn't even realize she was still awake with her stomach wide open. It took little effort on Sakura's part to slit the uterus open, and she gently handled the baby's head as she shifted him; Youka drained the last of the fluids while her superior carefully unwound the umbilical cord from the child's neck. His cries were already echoing in the room, easing the sudden tension. Perhaps that was what caused the next series of actions.

Youka made a mistake. Somewhere along the way, she bumped something, scratched something, and caused the uterus to hemorrhage. The blood started flowing so suddenly that the nurse came within an inch of screaming. Sakura's eyes sharpened. To fix it, she would need Youka's helping hands. That wouldn't happen if she handed her the baby. Same with the Nurse monitoring Okamoto's vitals; dirtying her hands would take her off the floor. She couldn't have that.

"Deidara! Get over here! I need help!" There was a second of hesitance that shouldn't have been there before he appeared at her side, and she placed the screaming newborn in his arms as quickly and gently as possible. "Give me two minutes to clean up the hemorrhage."

Sakura's focus was back on the patient. For that full, exact two minutes, nothing existed to her except her hands and a bleeding patient. Anything aside from that was blocked as she carefully knitted the arteries back together and Youka drained the blood and cleared any remaining birthing tissue. The rooms was filled with noises, but to Sakura it felt almost silent. It felt like she could hear a pin drop, but it never did.

With a final check, she barked at Youka to get a transfusion going, and began closing; first the uterus, then the skin of the mother's freshly flat belly. Her next step was to do a full internal check for any other complications, and then she washed her hands and instructed one of the other two nurses to give her a sponge bath. Okamoto Mei was mercifully unconscious now, and hopefully unaware that any complication had taken place. Deidara was the last place her eyes landed; the moment she looked at his face, she froze.

He was crying.

His face completely ashen, his hair disheveled and his clothes ripped in places from the window, now covered in blood and tissue from the child in his arms, he was crying. Eyes wide open as though shocked beyond words, the tears simply streamed—perhaps unbidden—down his face.

Grabbing a towel, she went and took the infant from his arms, jolting him violently from whatever had stopped him. The terrycloth passed over the little boy's new skin very gently, freeing him from the muck that came with the experience. Deidara still didn't check the tears on his cheeks.

"Is this also not something I can ask about?" she whispered, cautious of the other ears in the room. The little one in her arms was settling now, and the beeping of the machines lulled it towards sleep. Deidara bit his lip as one corner quirked up in a smile, his head dropping a little.

"It's the same thing. My past is catching up to me. It was my mother that was always so particular about regular meals, since she was a village medicine woman. She taught me everything she knew about a healthy diet, but I never really listened." His face, his _voice_, was grieved in a way Sakura was all-too-familiar with. She was beginning to see where this story was going, and her face darkened. "When my family was murdered, she was carrying a baby. Just a few weeks shy of delivery, a single man killed and burned everyone and everything in the village, and only I survived. A civilian boy, nine years old, completely alone and for no apparent reason. I swore revenge like the idiot I was. Revenge eventually got me an Akatsuki membership even when I didn't want it."

He laughed bitterly, and his voice cracked. The child that had gone quiet started to rouse and whimper with the turbulent emotions surrounding it. Youka returned and handed off the transfusion bottle, quickly rushing over to take the babe from her superior's arms. The tension was nearly palpable; a fraction of hesitation, and she left without a word. The silence stretched between them uneasily, before Deidara slouched forward to wrap his arms around her shoulders, and rest his forehead in the crook of her neck.

"Hey, Sakura-chan… I'm an idiot, aren't I? Isn't there some way to change that?"

* * *

**AN: Okay, so I'll say this now- I APOLOGIZE FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART FOR THE SERIOUSLY LATE UPDATE. I've been so snowed with projects that I couldn't find time to work on this at all. Even now, I have one book in the process of editing, and TWO due at the end of November, AND I'm going back to school (college) on the 17th of this month. I can't guarantee how quickly I'll update, but I dearly love this story and everyone who reviews it! For anyone interested, KyuubiTenshi is my deviantArt account, and there are some stories being posted there, as well as art! I hope everyone enjoys!**

_Please Review~! Because it means lots. ;P_


	9. Sunlight before Moonrise

**Chapter 9—Sunlight before the Moonrise**

The walk from the hospital was slow, and even though they could celebrate the safe birth of baby Okamoto Takayoshi, there was an inexplicable air of grief that hung between them.

Deidara looked exhausted. Sakura examined him out of the corner of her eye, and that haggard appearance on his usually healthy face was disturbing. She would need to take his clothes to the cleaners and get them mended—she certainly wasn't up for doing it herself, and the birthing fluids and blood that stained it would be a pain in the ass to get out at home. His hands were clean at least. Half of it was on the back of her shirt, but the other half was down the drain, thankfully.

The apartment was in sight much less quickly than she wished, but she continued to match his pace on the street. Her porch light was off, as expected, and it left the door looking dark and uninviting. With a heavy sigh, she grabbed his hand and pulled him up the steps, doing her best to keep him from stumbling as she marched up to the door, key at the ready. Ninja training was always good to have when trying to work keys with non-dominant hands she decided, fumbling a bit before finally fitting it in the hole properly.

The lights were on in the kitchen; and though the bubbles had disappeared, the sink was still full of water and dishes. The coffee table was shoved helter-skelter, just like they had left it. The TV showed nothing but snow at this time of morning, but it remained testament to them leaving it on. Cards were still scattered on the table from Deidara's fit over being so easily trounced in their earlier rounds of poker.

This had been a happy place several hours ago, but now she felt exhausted and uninvited; Deidara looked like the next best thing to a corpse, as if his soul escaped somewhere along the way. She didn't bother letting go of his hand. In fact, the only thing she bothered with—between locking the door and heading to her bedroom—was cutting off the ruined spaghetti-strap top. Topless, bra-less, and frankly only wearing a pair of daisy-duke sleeping shorts and a thong, she dragged the clueless blonde to bed with her regardless of whatever he might say. Not that he actually _did_ say anything.

Dismantling him of his shirt and pants with no cooperation, she shoved him beneath the covers and climbed in behind him, ignoring her alarm clock and determining that she would sleep in until noon tomorrow if she wanted to, everything else be damned. Flopping an arm over his waist and settling against his shoulder, Sakura fell into a light sleep—well aware that the man beside her was still wide awake and yet unaware of anything.

* * *

The curtains diffused the light well enough, but it was still bright.

Deidara blinked up at the ceiling, suddenly aware that he had gone to sleep and woken up again, though there was no telling when. This was Sakura's room, judging by the red curtains and the oddly out-of-place glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. He felt mysteriously comfortable, wrapped in her satin sheets with her half-naked body plastered to his side.

Oh… come to think of it, she really _was_ half-naked.

The man was by no means a womanizer; he could probably count on one hand the number of times he had been in this sort of situation. With someone he knew, the situation should have felt seriously uncomfortable—like bedding your best friend while drunk, that sort of thing. Instead, her skin was warm on his, and she was sleeping peaceably; her tiny, calloused hands were holding him gently around the middle, as if to make sure he didn't go anywhere before she woke up, and it felt as if not a thing in the world was wrong with the situation.

Just months ago, he would have been forced to kill her on sight, and vice versa. Just months ago, they were enemies—serving under different symbols, with vastly different leadership and purposes—and now, they were sleeping side-by-side like long-term lovers.

He'd be a hell-bound liar if he said he didn't like it.

The ghosts of his past were still flitting around the edges of his mind; but like the sunshine, she'd driven nearly all other shadows away. The new peace it afforded him was like the rarest of delicacies, and he savored it. Because of this one woman, he was waking up in a soft, warm bed; he had a place to call home, a person to care for, a village to serve and a—mostly—righteous cause to follow. He had time to cook decent meals, and could walk down a street without thinking about bloodstains that would soon fade into the walls. It felt like learning how to breathe for a second time, and it was _beautiful_.

Rolling over gently, he tucked an arm under his savior's head and drew her closer; she didn't show the faintest sign of resistance, and instantly wrapped herself around him, head tucked into his shoulder, arms around waist, and her toes stroking gently at the back of his legs. He wanted to laugh a little at this turn of events.

_I am **definitely** getting too used to this… yeah._

For the next several hours, he let himself remain delightfully oblivious to everything outside the edges of the bed. He memorized the sharp angles and feminine contours of his little dynamo's face, and indulged in trite little fantasies of happily-ever-after and children and white picket fences. It should've been enough fluffiness to shame a grown man forever; still, for that little while, Deidara allowed himself delusions of being a kept man with a lovely wife and three stair-stepping kids with pink hair and mouths in their hands.

He certainly wasn't in love—but hey, with a fancy catch like this in his arms, who wouldn't dream a little?

After an unknown age of lying there—if he had to guess, it was probably already mid-afternoon—Sakura finally roused from her deep sleep. Fifteen minutes were spent with her mind working towards consciousness, even though her eyes were closed; another ten minutes passed when she opened her eyes and stared blankly into space. She finally trailed her gaze up to his, still mostly in a sleepy stupor.

"… I'm the one who put us to bed last night, and I distinctly remember _no_ arm-pillow."

"This is true. I decided to pamper you since I woke up first."

"By letting me have an arm-pillow?"

"And petting your hair, and not waking you up despite how long I've been lying here."

She sat up and pouted, still not completely in her right mind—a fact that was quite obvious when she didn't bother to cover her naked upper half. "Really now. Any idea when you woke up?"

"Sometime before noon. But as the clock is behind me, I don't have the slightest clue what time it actually _is_, yeah." His body felt ridiculously heavy and comfortable in the mattress, even if he'd already been captive to it for hours. Sakura glanced at the clock grumpily. "Would you like me to fix you breakfast in bed? I can do that, you know. I don't have anywhere to be, yeah."

She grumbled incoherently. "No. I need a bath. I need a bath, and clean hair. Do whatever the hell you want for breakfast, but make sure the sheets are washed before I go to bed tonight."

"And your shirt?"

She glanced down, realizing what he was so ironically indicating. There wasn't a shirt to be done _with_. The little lady crawled out of bed and tottled somewhat gracelessly towards the door, only to straighten up at the last minute and turn a sly glance to him.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it myself."

* * *

On this lazy day off, they had done essentially two things: eat and watch movies.

Their things were scattered around haphazardly; blankets and movie covers, CDs and empty beer bottles, paperwork and dirty dishes all strewn between the living room and the kitchen. Sakura—now plus a shirt—was clean and in fresh pajamas that had little red falling shuriken all over them, and Deidara had also changed into a dark, over-sized t-shirt and baggy cotton slacks. They were acting like irresponsible teenagers for a little while. Like the civilian brats that didn't know what bloodshed looked like, and got everything served to them without having to take a job.

Damn, she wished that were true. They both did.

There was some stupid chick-flick that was running in the background right now—Deidara lost three games out of five on Texas Hold-em, so it was Sakura's pick—and sappy classical music was bubbling out of her speakers with even sappier words. They weren't paying attention really, currently in a life-and-death game of thumb-war over who had to fix the next meal. After waking up a few hours ago to shiny sunlight and a sweet, angelic smile and the lovey-gooey arm-pillow situation, Sakura realized something. She was being too damn careless around an ass like him.

Contrary to that thought, he hadn't made an ass out of himself in a while. Even more contrary, that goody-two-shoes let-me-make-it-aaaaall-better personality of hers was kicking in over his past now that she knew. The Fix-it Syndrome, as Ino put it, had her at loose ends trying to make him feel better and fix what hurts him; just like with Sasuke, and pretty well all her other teammates if you boiled it down. They all had their issues. Sakura was the normal one, as far as ninja go; civilian parents, random ninja relative she thought kicked ass and wanted to be like, sparkly idealistic growing up, being randomly girly even though she wanted to be all hellfire and brimstone and one of the guys… she was the _super_ normal one.

In comparison, she had one emotionless prick, one angsty prick, one withdrawn sex addict and one overgrown idiot (and she says this lovingly!). Heaven knows God was bored as hell the day he put them all together. He must've been having a redundant period of boredom—or maybe he just didn't like her? —when he added Deidara into the mix.

"I deserve some normality, dammit."

With a flat look, the blonde forgot his competitive spirit, and allowed his poor thumb to be roughly pinned. With a mild curse deadpanning in his head, he flatly responded, "Then don't take in poor, unfortunate ninja like me. You'll never get any, yeah."

"Oh, no; this has very little to do with you. You were an afterthought," she absentmindedly stated, looking for all the world as though she really hadn't given him much thought. "I'm in the midst of greatness, tragedy, and badassery; still I ask myself, 'Why am I so normal without any normalcy around me to go with it?'"

There was a moment were she could have _sworn_ she saw him brain-fault, after which his brows and lips twitched uncontrollably, unsure of what expression to make, until he finally broke down in a silent giggle-fit. In fact, he was starting to double over. Didn't that just beat the band?

"Greatness, tragedy and badassery, is it," he repeated a minute later, with some difficulty, as he finally simmered down. Oh, she randomly noticed that there was a cheesy 'You may kiss the bride' scene running on the TV before he continued with, "It suits you on all three counts, don't it?"

"Liar."

"Don't sulk, I'm being honest, yeah."

"Honest as hell freezing over." He pried his thumb from under her domination and managed to retrieve his hand before she mangled it. "Where, oh _where_, pray tell, do any of those describe me?"

'Ah. She's sulking. That explains it.' Deidara stared at her for a long while. She sulked a bit, an unintentionally cute pout crossing her lips, before picking up and draining her random alcoholic whirligig on the table. From there, she restlessly watched the credits rolling by on the screen for a few seconds before veritably _springing_ for the next DVD they'd set out to watch—Deidara's pick, an anti-hero mafia thriller. Even popping that in, forcibly skipping through all the commercials and getting right down to the opening heist didn't settle her. She fixed more alcohol. She turned up the heat. In fact, after turning up the heat she went into the kitchen and mixed up a _cake_ to bake for some _unknown_ reason. 'So this is Sakura when… fidgety. How cute.'

"It suits you." She hadn't even noticed when he walked up behind her in the kitchen, his large hands coming to settle on either side of her. The light shone from behind him, casting the whole counter in a formless shadow, and her breath hitched at being cornered by someone quite possibly stronger than herself. Even if this was Deidara, a sweet jackass she'd just spent the night with, he was still an S-class shinobi. It also didn't help that his breath was ghosting gently over her jaw while saying sweet little things she had no desire to hear. "You _are_ great. Don't think your reputation doesn't precede you, Sakura. It does, yeah. Quite loudly. The apprentice of the Sannin, Tsunade, current Hokage of Konohagakure, who surpassed her teacher with a paltry three years of training. Super strength to crumble mountains, with medical skills to bring someone back from the brink of death. Rumor has it that you even know how to work that jutsu that Sasori-no-danna's old grandma used to bring the ichibi Jinchuuriki back from the dead, yeah. If that isn't great enough for you, it takes a really forgiving heart to let a bastard like me get away with the shit I've done, and I sure think _that__'__s_ great.

"And don't you have some of your own tragedy? Your first love was the little Uchiha prick, and he abandoned this village for a few years out of his own stupidity. Your other teammate left to train at the same time, and you ended up alone for everything. You nearly had to kill one teammate to drag his ass back here, and you've nearly lost little fox-boy's consciousness under the transformations before, right? That Sai kid's ANBU grade, right? He's gotta be twisted. You didn't exactly get an easy lot in life yourself, yeah.

"As for badassery," he murmured, leaning a little closer to her ear, "I think the only one with any doubts about that'll be you, yeah."

There was a certain playful lilt to his voice, which teased her over something she apparently didn't understand. The next second he was walking back across the kitchen, vaulting over the arm of the couch, an oddly pleased smile on his face.

When Sakura came back with the tea, Deidara had settled into the middle of the couch, looking like he'd rather melted into the cushions gracelessly, his arms spread across the back and his feet sprawled out in front of him. She handed him a cup, got her own, and flopped down next to him artlessly with her legs folded under. For a long time, they watched the movie, not saying anything, not really moving much. They enjoyed the light tension that came with suspense, and laughed a little when something funny (or just plain ironic) cropped up. By the time the credits started rolling, Sakura found herself in a much calmer state than she expected. Deidara got up to change the movie, and whilst he rifled through her collection, she decided to go ahead and spring it on him.

"I don't understand you." He blinked, looked up at her, and after a second he got a look on his face.

"I didn't really expect you to, yeah."

"But if I ask questions, will you answer?"

He hesitated a little, set the video case back down, and turned to lean on the entertainment center. There was a long, almost measuring look, before he answered, "I'll try, Sakura-chan. Some just may take more time than others to answer."

He expected questions to go off at rapid-fire the second he gave her permission, but she sat there contemplating him with critical green eyes that weren't accusing or angry, or anything else aside from clinical curiosity. Her lips were tucked in at one corner as if she were chewing on them, and her arms were resting on top of her knees like a child, a fuzzy throw-blanket wrapped around her nearly-bare legs like an odd scarf. Outside the front window, the earth was rimmed with violet as the last light of the day died away, and the only like on aside from the TV was the vent hood light in the kitchen more than twenty feet away. In the somber, cool darkness she looked oddly misplaced; something like seeing a fairy in the midst of mechanical parts, she looked like a strangely natural existence in the midst of an ultra-modern world. Pink hair and green eyes, with a warm, open heart that could forgive even a bloodied soul like him…

What the hell was she doing, being a shinobi?

Her face shifted; it looked like she was going to ask a question, but suddenly he didn't want her to ask anything at all. In a flicker he was across the room, bending over to place one, soft kiss on her forehead, and then he was gone—off, down the hall to his room, never turning to see what sort of reaction he had elicited from his fascinating savior.

* * *

**AN: This chapter was mostly for the sake of laying some groundwork, but as far as fluffiness goes I should be getting bonus points, right? Sorry it took so long for me to finish this one folks, but like I said before-college. My semester is over once I finish my finals next week, so I tried to hurry up and finish this chapter. TT_TT Hopefully I'll be able to put out at least one more before next semester starts. I _really_ hope I'll be able to get some more character and story consistency going; due to the long pauses, I keep missing details. *pouts***

**At any rate, please enjoy yourselves and leave reviews for any and everything~! Ciao.**


	10. No Feathers on Devils' Wings

**10—No Feathers on Devils' Wings**

"Cause of death is pretty obvious, taichou. Something exploded on his face," Sakura deadpanned. The masked ANBU captain across the examining room gave her an uneasy feeling as he tapped his fingers impatiently. "The skull is destroyed, and his brain in is a neat little batch of chili con carne. Instant death. Probably didn't even have time to realize he was a target."

The captain didn't comment, but continued to stare at her silently. Damn, that was unnerving. The medic flipped the white cloth back over the unfortunate victim's mauled head as an irritated twitch made itself apparent on her brow. She had every right to be just as edgy as that… _person_… across the concrete examining room. This wasn't just an issue of some poor slouch getting detonated on a mission.

Fact was, this was an ANBU operative that had recently been assigned to keep an eye on her blonde, sponging houseguest, and his untimely death had happened well within the walls of the city. _That_ was what had the captain so disastrously jittery. Sakura documented her findings in a file—explosive device, back of the skull, instant death, and identity as follows—and handed it to the waiting squad leader.

"The rest of the autopsy will be covered by the ANBU division's morgue, I assume. Since I was first on the case, just fill me in on the details when he's done and I'll be happy," she said, voice indicating that 'happy' simply meant 'and I won't have to beat it out of you.' She checked her wristwatch blandly, and with an irritated sigh made her way to the heavy door. "If I'm needed for anything else, find me at the hospital. My _roommate_ loses a few screws every time you people show up again."

With that, she exited and allowed the door to shut itself behind her.

Sakura went immediately to the nurses' locker room, where they could have a shower and do some laundry should a shift prove excessively messy. Death had its own distinct smell, and she wanted it _off_ before going anywhere near patients. Patients, or home for that matter. The distinct feeling that something was about to go very, _very_ wrong refused to leave her alone; in fact, she was absolutely positive that this was going to come back to bite her in the ass soon. It was an explosion, and the victim was ANBU… and she just happened to be housing a semi-ex-criminal who specialized in that very method of killing. When she told that masked aggravation that she wanted any extra details that started cropping up, what she meant to say was, "Tell me if you find clay powder in or around the wound."

If so, she was about to meet her maker, and she was feeling a bit too _young _for that yet.

With a generous dose of strong soap, she made sure that any traces of her venture into the morgue were gone before stepping out, drying off, and borrowing an extra nurse uniform while her clothes were in the wash. The hospital detergent had a slightly acrid smell, and there wasn't any fabric softener to be had here… but it would have to do. No way was she going back to that apartment smelling like corpse. Never.

She could smell like vomit, blood, pee, or pretty much anything else; but she simply _refused_ to return smelling like death.

As the young doctor returned to her rounds, it was by sheer reputation that no one mistook her for one of the normal nursing staff. The one crotchety old man that treated her like one probably knew better, but was taking advantage of his old age and her short skirt. Sakura had to warn him before she left that, should he ever again cop a feel of a nurse's behind, he wouldn't have fingers to touch with. He was, to all reports, a perfect gentleman afterwards. With practiced professionalism, she breezed through every problem and paper just in time to grab her clothes from the dry cycle. It was suffocating with them being so warm, what with summer making itself apparent, but she ignored the ticklish burning sensation as she slipped into the newly-washed cotton and made a mad dash for the sign-out sheet with her boots only half on.

Sakura refused to be late today. She would go home, drown in the suddenly wonderful affection that Deidara was now showering her with, stuff herself full of his fabulous cooking and then promptly pass out (on his lap) on the couch. Tomorrow was her day off again, and she was going to completely waste it at home on delivery from the Korean barbecue place and a tournament of Tekken against her housemate. Maybe a movie later, but she definitely wanted to do something stupid and destructive (that didn't do any structural damage). The second the dirt filtered into her shoes from the street, Sakura felt a TGIF moment coming on.

Veritably _skipping_ down the road and absolutely determined to have _nothing_ but happy thoughts on her mind, she didn't notice until it was _much_ too late for her to do anything.

From a shadow in a side alley, a white arm darted out and snatched her into hiding. The perpetrator would've had an instant case of broken arm if Sakura hadn't recognized him. That just _barely_ stayed her wrath, however, and she seethed at him with a, "Sasuke-kun, I have an appointment with Tekken. This better be good."

Said Uchiha had the weariest, most constipated look on his face when he noticed her mood. This was the "I'm being a stupid teenager for a while. I'll be a ninja later," mood. On that note, it was Version 'Bloodthirsty.' Fantastic.

"Listen Sakura, there's a huge uproar with the ANBU ops—"

"If this is about my DOA with a bomb to the face, I don't want to hear it without further details. Unless you can tell me specific materials—"

"That's just _it_, Sakura!"

She stopped. Sasuke was staring at her seriously, and the constipated look was indeed lined with a hint of panic. Unconsciously, she bit the inside of her lip.

"The explosive was clay. That Akatsuki's getting the blame already," he said, and the bit of desperation tainted his voice in a painfully obvious way. Sakura bit through the skin she was chewing on, effectively snapping it off. In disgust, she spat the flesh out on the street, and growled.

"Time of death was two in the morning this morning. Deidara was with me, walking home from an emergency at the hospital. I was asleep and he had to wake me, so he carried me while I was getting my act together. He has an alibi," came the response, firm and uncompromising. Sasuke stared at her almost expectantly.

He was begging for her to be telling the truth in his own way, because if this man were really a criminal again already, Sakura's head would be the one on the platter. The antsy, anxious stance he'd taken was painfully obvious considering his usual behavior. He trusted—in his own way, adored—her, and seeing her gone was not an option. Like Naruto, he would probably sooner drag her to Suna for political asylum than leave her to actually face the consequences, bless him.

Still, what Sakura was thinking about was totally different.

In her apartment, the air would be just a little too cool for her liking, a little too warm for _his_; the smell of well-cooked meat, spiced vegetables, and warm lentils would be saturating the air. His bath things were beginning to give the shelf space a run for its money, and he would occasionally pop into her room at night and talk to her about random, stupid things while they tried to go to sleep. Sometimes he was a mother hen, sometimes an annoying little brother; sometimes he was very nearly a proper househusband, and other times she wondered if he could even be housebroken. Her gust bedroom was already covered in clay dust, and her dresser now possessed an insane amount of baubles and jewelry molded from metal clay.

Her apartment, once a place to heat some non-ramen food and catch a few zs, was now a _home_.

"There's going to be another explanation. Some x-factor or something. It wasn't Deidara-san," she repeated firmly, her chartreuse eyes leveling with her teammate seriously. "I expect you to clear him, Sasuke-kun. That's all."

* * *

Between there and the doorway, Sakura wasn't sure what she did. Still, the next thing she knew her arms were roughly wrapped around her housemate's waist and she was thoroughly snuggled into his back, her feet dragging lifelessly across the floor as he walked and bitched.

"I mean, seriously, if you want dinner sooner, just _say_ something, yeah. I could start earlier! Or is this something you don't eat? Gah, I should've ordered in tonight," he grumped, and Sakura didn't say a word—which was likely his reason for grumping.

Telling him about this case was strictly forbidden. Top secret and all that shit. Yet when she watched him—and reattached herself to his back so that her arms were around his neck and her legs around his waist—Sakura dearly wished she could dump the whole thing on him like a bucket of ice water and share the grief. At the same time, she was glad she couldn't tell him. It would probably piss him off.

'… But _why_ would it piss him off…?' There was no two ways about it—he'd definitely be pissed. Still, why? Personal safety? The immediate suspicion? Guilt? 'No, wait. Scratch the guilt; there's no way he actually _did_ this.'

Feeling guilty 'for getting her into a mess' was also not high on the likelihood list in her opinion, but she digressed.

Then she really _was_ hungry. Sakura decided she was thinking too much, and watched Deidara wobble awkwardly from one side of the kitchen to the other, his words filling the space with things she wasn't even listening to; his topics went from complaints to things he forgot, had intended to tell her, had thought about that day, and then back to complaints again. It was a lop-sided cycle that had little point, but at the moment it was probably the best thing he could've done for her.

"What are you fixing?" she finally asked, staring at a reddish concoction in a soup-pot. Ugh, it reminded her of the cadaver's pulped head. He looked at her with a flat sort of curiosity.

"I went Chinese tonight. This is the sweet and sour sauce for dipping. What's wrong with you today, Sakura-chan? You seem off, yeah," he replied, his question faltering a bit.

She really, _really_ wanted to know how he'd react. So with a bit of quick re-engineering on her story, she said, "Today someone asked me what I would do if you really did betray us. It keeps running around in my head. What do you think?"

"Not gonna happen." The instantaneous answer surprised her, but she listened on. "I never thought I'd get the chance at a different life. I didn't know there was a measure of freedom even inside the rules, yeah. Konoha is the kind of place I _wish_ I'd grown up in, and despite all I've done I finally have this chance in my hands. No way in hell am I throwing that away, yeah."

He wasn't particularly fierce or passionate in his speech; this wasn't some shounen manga inspirational scene. No righteous declaration or guts pose. It was a factual, slightly grumpy answer that was soon followed by his muttering about what time to turn down the temperature and when to check the chicken. It definitely wasn't a planned answer; it wasn't overly thought-out or calculated. The sheer tactlessness of it was what made it so comforting, and she relaxed a little. No, actually she relaxed a lot; she felt as if more than just today's burden had floated off her shoulders, even though the ANBU were surely already started to build a case against him and, effectively, against herself. She highly doubted any one of them would be cautious for her sake.

"If they were trying to pin something on you, what would you do?" she asked vaguely, barely more than a whisper in his ear. He glanced at her curiously.

"If I did something, that would get you in trouble, yeah? That'd be bad. I owe you too much to let that happen in return for your favor to me."

Oh damn. The least likely scenario was the one that actually happened. She was feeling fluffy inside again.

"Really now."

"Really, yeah," he said, that roguish smirk sliding on to his face. "To the woman who let me tinker with fuzzy ideas like cute families and white picket fences, how could I do you wrong?"

Her thoughts deadpanned after that in a, "What the hell?"

"Ahaha, because that's what was running around in my head on your last day off. What man wouldn't want a great gal like you on his arm? A good job, a nice house, odd hours to keep things interesting," he said, and with the way he turned back to his cooking it told her he was just rattling things off the top of his head for real. "I was imagining working for Konoha until I died, you and me and three stair-stepping daredevil kids just as infamous as us. A house on the outskirts of town where it'd be quiet, yeah, with a big yard and that stupid white picket fence, just to say we had one for real. We'd lead happy quiet lives and hopefully go out with a huge bang in our old age, saving the village or the Hokage or something. Just a dream, yeah. Just for a little while. But just two or three months ago, I wouldn't have even thought of it, yeah. Didn't have the leisure, or the heart."

"The heart?" she repeated softly, and his smile was a little awkward. This was one of those 'reasons' she wanted to know; one of the questions he'd said he would answer. She waited expectantly, but dared not push too hard.

"… I was a timid kid, y'know. I was born to medicine woman and a retired ninja, but I was probably the most cowardly kid in my whole village, yeah. I liked molding clay, and helping my dad make the fireworks for the festivals all year long; I didn't socialize with the others my age much, not even the girls," he muttered, and there was some sulking here and a hint of nostalgia there; she was a little glad that telling her didn't bother him too much. "After that former Akatsuki massacred our village, I went to Iwagakure and trained to be a ninja like my dad. It was for revenge, and I was stupid; I turned into a damned bloodthirsty brat that didn't care who or what got in my way. Well, you know the rest, yeah?"

"Mm." Not really, but she'd let him off for that. It was another bit of insight on his psyche that she didn't have before.

"Bloodthirsty and quaint families don't go together; it'd be like throwing the Texas Chainsaw Massacre on the set of Heidi, right?" he quipped. His voice was faltering, trying to stay cheerful, and about that time he shut off the stove and the burners, pulling the pots and pans from the heat. "Well, let's eat while it's hot, yeah."

Sakura slid from his back, dropping her feet to the floor quietly. The blonde busied himself with putting everything in dishes that would look good on a table and would move easily to the fridge, methodically tossing the cookware into the sink once it was no longer in use.

What was she looking at? Was it an angel or a devil? Which half was the disguise, or was he really being open with her? A real demon wouldn't be this gentle, she thought, and certainly wouldn't leave himself vulnerable. Sakura still felt confident in her judgment of Deidara; she didn't feel any inconsistencies at all. Still, a man was dead; Deidara's method was the same as the one depicted by the wounds. Even she would've gone to the conclusion that he was the perpetrator, if not for this time she'd had with him. His alibi was as real and solid as that feeling settled in her gut.

She would still have to prove it.

* * *

**AN: Hi hello~! Yup, it's been a while. Again. I'm so sorry! *cries* I was really intending to get another chapter out before this semester began, but it didn't happen. And here it is, the end of the semester... Finals actually start next week. I got this out at long last though, and we're finally gearing up into the main plot! SHABAM! XD I've had lots of writing projects going on lately, but I'm glad I finally made it back to working on CP. For more fanfiction and artwork, please visit my dA account, KyuubiTenshi~! Best of love, folks~**

**~Y.**


	11. Dreaming in a Cage

**11—Dreaming in a Cage**

The hours between when she went to bed and when the sun came up were so long and quiet that she forgot what she was actually doing. Her breathing was tightly regulated to imitate sleep, her chakra levels consciously smoothed into an even, sleepy flow; like this, she maintained herself all the way until morning, watching closely over her roommate who was now habitually sleeping beside her. For three nights, she kept it up.

Two of those three nights produced victims.

Each time, Sakura told them plainly, "I was watching him. He never woke up that night."

It was the truth, but the ANBU were getting antsy enough to not believe her. Tsunade called her into the office this fourth morning, right after finishing the autopsy of their third victim. With her steps wavering a little from lack of sleep, Sakura marched towards the top of the Hokage Tower, ready to raise hell with her teacher and teammates. A shouting match, a fistfight…anything was possible, really.

The doors opened before her and shut quickly behind, and true to her suspicions all her boys plus her teacher were there, waiting to hear what she had to say.

"It's not him."

"We've heard that you're his alibi, Sakura. You've been his ally from the start though, and it's not going to pan out that easy," her teacher returned. Sasuke fidgeted slightly just out the corner of her eye, and Naruto raked his fingers through his hair.

"Sakura-chan, are you _sure_ you know what you're doing?"

"Are you saying I sacrificed three nights of sleep for nothing, Naruto? _Deidara never woke up._ And between us, if you can keep your damn mouth shut, he never left the bed either. We've gotten in the habit of sleeping in the same bed, and he didn't move an inch the whole night, on _any_ night. The man sleeps like he's dead," she snapped, a growl creeping around the edge of her words. There wasn't a single lie to be had in what she said. Deidara didn't make a sound or budge a finger once he was asleep. He only roused if her chakra fluctuated oddly, before falling back into his personal nirvana. "Deidara-san is innocent. He's being blatantly framed."

"Then what do you expect us to think, Sakura?" Sasuke asked, his dark mood hanging around his shoulders uncomfortably. "What do we have to go on that will tell us otherwise?"

"We're in the middle of a damn residential district. If a bomb went off, don't you think somebody would hear it?"

There wasn't a comeback for that one. In fact, they had already been contemplating it. Three murders had occurred on the roofs of houses that surrounded Sakura's poorly-secured apartment complex, and yet no-one had so much as heard a peep in the night, not even Earthquake Haruno herself, despite how carefully she'd been listening, watching and waiting for something to happen. An explosion solid enough to blow someone's head apart would have to be loud enough to at least wake a building.

The tension in the room was moving, shifting, changing like an acrid tide around their feet, drowning them in feelings of unease and distrust. Her teammates hadn't known what to think from the moment they met him; neither had anyone else. Sakura really _was_ the only one on Deidara's side, and the more she knew about him the more firmly she planted herself there. Inside, he was timid; he was domestic and understanding, and his bloodthirsty side had been an obsession for victory, which eventually became an ingrained façade. She knew him better than anyone, even if she didn't know everything. Even not knowing everything was enough.

She was _sure_ it was enough.

"Deidara-san is innocent. I staked my head on it, right? If he were guilty, or if I doubted him, don't you think I'd be the first to kill him and then finish the mess for you myself?" she asked, and her eyes landed directly on Naruto as she said it. Vehemently, she said, "Trust me, dammit. I've never betrayed you before, and I won't start now. You're _my boys_, and if there were anyone an enemy would aim for it would be one of us. Like hell will I let an enemy get near you without showing him the Sanzu's bloody banks first."

Naruto's sky-blue eyes were on her, solid but cold. He knew. She knew he knew. Her haggard face could probably tell several stories that her mouth couldn't, and Naruto was the one man in the world who could read them all. He was stubborn as a damn mule and vicious as a lion when he wanted, but he had loved her once upon a time. Whether that was enough to make him really, _really_ look, even she wondered. Sai would make a straight, factual decision whether she pleaded or not; his only change would come with team decision. Sasuke would think for himself, but would surrender his opinions for the sake of Naruto. Kakashi would protect her until she proved herself guilty, but she wouldn't dare make him bloody his hands for her too. The real decision was between Naruto and Tsunade.

Their tempers, their stubbornness… they were so much like each other they could've been mother and son. Even the value they placed on her was an even match, higher than the estimation of anyone else in all the world. Naruto would give her an answer. It would be a heavy one, weighing the safety of the village against her word; it would be a verdict heavier than a blow from her fist, more decisive than a crack in the earth. Even if it was positive, it would mean pressure.

His eyes lowered. He sighed soundlessly and walked towards her, his boots tapping quietly on the floor. At her side, the boy touched his forehead to hers; she could see a few flecks of green mixed into his eyes as they stared sorrowfully down at her face.

"Sakura-chan, I trust you. But I don't trust _him_."

"You still have to make this decision, Naruto. I can't make even one move if you're not with me," she replied. There was a lot more truth in that statement than she wanted to admit. "If you don't take my word and believe in me this time, it'll be the last time I ever get to ask. You know that, right?"

His eyes didn't waver, even as he said, "Yeah. I know, Sakura-chan."

"Will you let me prove him innocent?" she asked.

"Will you be able to?" he replied, and there wasn't an ounce of hope in his eyes as he asked. Sakura hardened her guard at that. Permission, but not belief. That wasn't the best sign, but it was all she needed.

"Able to? Damn straight I will. When do we start?"

* * *

Inside her apartment, Deidara was cleaning up a storm.

In her closet.

"Why the closet?"

"Why _not_ the closet, hmm?" he snapped, head somewhere in the back. With a sudden jostle he threw a handful of unidentified clothing items out into the floor, only to up-end just as many hangers from the rod and drop them on his head. With a fair amount of near-tangible frustration, he sat on her floor and—to the best of her knowledge, she couldn't tell through the clothes—stared at her. "Please, Sakura-chan. Tell me why the closet is such a disaster, yeah?"

"Because I don't have time to clean and you're apparently the only one who has ever noticed," she chirped, acting as cheerful as possible. With extreme difficulty made worse by his growing temper, he finally fought his way out of the clothes on his head. "Sasuke and Naruto give me the clothes they get too big for because I use them for lounging, pajamas, dirty work and stuff. Ino can't fit my clothes because she's too big in the bosom, so I get her hand-me-downs too. But on the reverse side, this means no one is small enough to raid my closet for something to wear, and thus nothing ever goes missing."

He stared. She stared back. Then, as if the very thought pissed him off, Deidara dove into her closet and _dug_. It wasn't unlike a dog attempting to bury a bone, though in this case he was attempting to unearth her floor. With great zeal, he climbed over a small mountain in the doorway, and after a little crash-banging around he shoved out the entirety of the mess into the middle of her floor rug. Sakura continued to stare, and then clapped lightly.

"Wow, I think I see a jacket I forgot I still had."

Between the hems of some dresses and the top of Mount Junky, Sakura could see Deidara's blue eyes glaring.

She laughed.

* * *

After the nice bout of cleaning, arguing and laundry, Sakura found herself in higher spirits as she headed towards the bed. Her personal damper, however, made an immediate appearance at the doorbell, ringing it furiously in a way that spoke just a few, dry words.

_Don't expect to sleep_.

The second her front door opened, Sasuke spewed, "Where's _he_ been for the last hour?"

Sakura, rather pissed and already sleepy, replied with, "Helping fold the laundry he dug out of my closet. Why, did you want to join the party?"

Without so much as a by your leave, he grabbed her arm and hauled her into the street, pulling her towards the corner of the building roughly.

"This is _no time_ to be joking! We've got another victim!"

"And I told you, Deidara-san has a legit alibi. The laundry. Nosy Yukimura-san from next door could probably tell you that I was taking up all the hot-water ever since two this afternoon," she replied calmly. Deidara hasn't left my sight since then until now, Sasuke-kun."

The classically dark Uchiha eyes examined her closely, observing her for any tick, any indication of unease, but she was completely at home with her words. Every one of them was true; there wasn't a fault to be _had_, much less to be found. Still, Sasuke's eyes were desperate to make absolutely sure that she wasn't even stretching the truth before he let her arm go. "The ANBU are getting too antsy to handle, Sakura. Just an alibi isn't going to hold them off for long. They may try to kill him."

"You take care of what you can, Sasuke-kun. I'll do the same," she replied softly. In one of her rarer shows of affection, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders briefly. "I'll do what I can. Tomorrow I'll talk to shishou about working this autopsy together. Maybe we can find something that the ANBU medics couldn't."

"Sakura—!"

She released him, and stepped out towards the street. "Stop. Don't worry, don't panic; just trust me."

It was all she could offer him, but she was even starting to doubt herself. Deidara had been with her; it was a solid, airtight alibi if they would actually believe her. Still, every time he really _had_ that airtight alibi, the attacks would occur. It would look like the worst timing ever for a framing, but at the same time it was done deliberately.

Sakura had the grave suspicion that someone was planning to kill two birds with one stone this time around.

Slipping through her front door, the kunoichi shut it calmly behind her, heading for the bedroom as she had originally intended, quite ready for some sleep. Deidara had obviously beaten her to it, and he was spread out on his stomach, pillow tucked beneath his chin, chewing on his thumbnail as he plowed through what _appeared_ to be one of her medical research scrolls on kekkei-genkai and their cancer-like tendencies. Her dry, ironic thought was, 'Gee, what a bedtime story,' as she flopped directly on top of him.

It effectively knocked the breath out of him for a moment, but that was funny anyway. She giggled, and the blond eventually rolled over and held her to him; he was trying to act like he was sulking, but the amusement that glowed on his face ruined it. For a long, long moment, Haruno Sakura lay in the arms of a man once her enemy, now her friend, and contemplated him.

He was a bag of tricks and mischief to begin with, but his domestic side seemed to be getting the better of him here. She wanted him to be free to walk out the front door and down the streets, to shop and the market and make mayhem with the local kids without having to worry about ANBU being on his tail. Still, inside his closed, single-apartment world with little to offer, he seemed _happy_.

Deidara, locked away in a cell disguised as a home, was dreaming about a future that was so absolutely fragile he couldn't see it about to break. He was dreaming inside a lovely cage, and she felt as if she wanted to keep him tucked away and safe, firmly walled about with his illusions. She didn't want him to know that all hell was about to break loose in the outside world. She didn't want him to notice the bars he'd willingly walked into.

"Deidara, are you happy?" she asked softly. His bright blue eyes lit up, and his smirk was answer enough, really.

"I'm nearly euphoric, yeah."

Instead of making her happy, his contented words made her want to cry.

* * *

**AN: Umm... wow. I think this is the fastest I've updated in like, forever. An age. Maybe ever, since the start of this one. o.o Shocking! Anyway, having more inspiration for writing lately, and since I'm out of school for the summer I also have more time, despite my moving. I'm glad to have this one in the bag! So very, very glad~**

**On a side note, I have absolutely no idea how long this story is going to be, but due to circumstances and involved characters, it's probably on the other side of the peak now; just a handful more chapters by guesstimation, so I'll try and churn them out quickly~! Keep an eye out!  
**


	12. The Wandering

**Chapter 12—The Wandering**

"Alright, I'm heading out. I don't know if I'll need dinner today or not; I might be working overtime," she announced, pulling on her boots the next morning. Deidara gave Sakura a flat, unhappy look. "What's with the glare? You look like a wet cat or something."

"You _will_ eat, won't you?"

She rolled her eyes at him, saying, "Of _course_ I will."

"Don't give me 'of course,' yeah. If you come home without eating anything, I'm going to make you eat out tonight," he grumped, scrubbing at a skillet. "I swear, if someone doesn't keep an eye on you, you'd—"

Without him noticing, Sakura slipped up and hugged him around the shoulders, cutting off his sulky tirade. With a small smile, she whispered in his ear, "I promise I'll eat properly and come back for your home-cooking. Wouldn't dare miss out."

That said, she disappeared quickly out the door. Deidara stared at the knob for a long minute or two. It was the most uncomfortable thing he had felt in a long while; she seemed off. Off _how_ he wasn't sure, but she was definitely off.

Somehow, he'd had that impression a lot lately.

Even her medical skills and makeup couldn't hide the ghastly dark circles under her eyes and unnatural pallor of her skin. She was doing her level best to hide her frustration lately, but sometimes he would catch a glimpse of her face while it pinched beneath the stress. As he dried the last dish and set it off to the side in the drainer, Deidara had to take the time to appreciate her efforts, however debilitating. 'I've never had someone put on a good face for me. Never had anyone who would consider me worth it, yeah.' It was a solemn thought, but it actually made him a little happy to think that she cared that much. If compared to 'love' or 'like' it was a very small amount of care, but it was still more than he'd dared hope for from anyone.

He padded across the linoleum and into the carpeted living room, stopping briefly to pick up a coffee cup his 'keeper' had left on the end table. It was white, with a ring of fire pained around the base much like an over-jacket he recalled seeing in the anarchy of her closet—the masculinity of which he decided was much more suitable to her. Little indications of this 'rebellion' filled her home, he noticed; shounen manga, old tape-recordings of famous boxing matches, and other such media filled her shelves, and after he became her housemate, she stopped buying 'feminine' soaps, shampoos and conditioners when she ran out, and simply shared whatever he used for himself. On more than one occasion he thought to tell her she wasn't playing fair by having his scent all over her, but the timing was never right for such a personal jibe.

The cup was left in the sink with a little water in the bottom, and after looking around the room for a bit while feeling at loose ends, he finally elected to work on a new project with the clay Sakura purchased for him. Maybe she would be in a better mood when she got back this evening. Maybe she wouldn't have to fake her smile today. Maybe he could surprise her and make her laugh for real.

In the meanwhile, he would just have to wait.

* * *

ANBU's morgue was even less cheerful than the one in the hospital, which really said something about the conditions. It couldn't have been much gloomier if there were bloodstains on the walls and bats hanging in the doorways. Still, the way Haruno Sakura stormed down the hallway said "Business as usual," to anyone who was watching her. Her face was set in a stiff mask, concentrated towards the doorway near the end of the hall.

The metal door opened inward on quiet hinges, and in the room's center she could see the white-draped body, her teacher already pulling on her mask with Ibiki observing morbidly from the corner. The observation room had Anko and a masked operative standing by, clipboards and pens at the ready. Without pause, Sakura grabbed another medical mask and wrapped it around her ears, not even bothering to pull something on and cover her clothes. She would have to wash them afterwards anyway.

"Let's get on with it then," Tsunade snapped, eyes glinting. Sakura had the body opened up for observation almost as soon as the words left her teacher's mouth, her experience hand laying open the blanket and carcass in seconds without an iota of hesitation. The damage was to the head and shoulders, but taking in other vital areas was necessary; if he were poisoned and then exploded as a misdirect, it would be crucial. If he were killed by anything else, they still had to know. Anything could be a hint—anything at all—and in her own way, Sakura was twice as wound up about it as anyone else. The thought of that ex-criminal standing at her kitchen sink and scolding her about eating habits like an old mother hen was driving her, she would admit. She wanted him to keep on being that nagging mother hen. She wanted him to always be there at her apartment, fighting over the thermostat with her and hogging the bathroom and going on cleaning binges.

Sakura wanted Deidara to have that future he was looking forward to, white picket fence included.

Hope was a damn fickle bird if she ever met one though, and she could already feel it leaving as she meticulously surveyed the liver, the kidneys, and the intestines while her teacher dug through his chest. Almost two hours later, after digging through every blood vessel and chakra path, she pulled back from the cadaver with a grim set to her mouth, Tsunade not far behind her. Now for the part neither of them was looking forward to.

If there wasn't an alternative answer, Deidara's life wasn't the only one on the line. Sakura didn't like thinking about it; it felt selfish to put her own life first. Still, those were the facts—if he was the murderer, she was the accomplice, and they would be put to death just the same. With a glance from her mentor, the cloth was pulled back from the brain cavity; there wasn't even a face left—barely half the skull remained, together with the bits of shredded gray matter that hadn't been sent flying and were processed separately. The bone was white and glaring against leftover dead-red contents, but she and her teacher both ignored the feeling that something evil was smiling at them from those places that peeked through the carnage as if to taunt them. The room was silent; without the unnecessary tools of the civilians, sound became nonexistent outside of their fingers squishing around inside the remains, turning red and black and becoming covered in sticky little pieces from who knew where.

Four hands were searching. Four of them, and yet as they poked and prodded and observed, Sakura could see all the things she didn't want to—fine dust on the hair, the faint whiff of gunpowder and chakra, the finely charred and fragmented remains—everything was just what she was hoping against hope wasn't true. It was the most pathetic thing ever, but she could feel her eyes stinging with tears of frustration. She knew it wasn't him, and yet she couldn't prove it. Two people, herself and that twisted, ignorant, childish, sweet, domesticated mother hen of a man were going to die for her incompetence.

Then, like God's divine intervention, a tiny glitter of light shone against her unshed tears.

Sakura lunged forward, nearly butting heads with her teacher in her rush to find out what she'd seen. Tsunade snapped at her, but the reprimand fell on deaf ears as Sakura, with every ounce of caution and skill she could manage, dug through just a little more of the gore. She hadn't been seeing things… she hadn't.

Right there in the midst of all that chaos, like a promised miracle, was a splinter of metal. With almost reverent fingers, she reached to touch it…

'Wait… what was I reaching for?'

She glanced around. The sun poured through her room, and lit up patches on the floor, her narrow bedroom glowing soft yellow in the mid-morning light.

"Sakura, it's time to get up! You don't want to be late to meet your teacher, do you?"

* * *

The clay wasn't taking his mind off things today.

He tried making pottery, jewelry, toys, furniture, random objects that even _he _couldn't describe, and yet he still couldn't shake the feeling that Sakura had been off that morning. It wasn't even her health—and despite her best efforts, he could tell that she was sleep-deprived—but some other sort of off. Psychological stress sounded about right, but she was the hailed golden egg of the Fifth Hokage, right? There was no way she could be going through anything that horrible, right?

His mind jokingly supplied, 'Maybe her boyfriend got jealous of me and threw a hissy,' but he was of the distinct impression that Sakura wasn't seeing anyone.

Why there _wasn't_ a significant other in the picture, he couldn't decide. Sakura was an infinitely affectionate person. She loved touching and being touched, and she was even over-familiar with _him_ of all people, not to mention her teammates and friends. Her beauty wasn't extraordinary, but it was undeniably there—her sharp, cat-like eyes and sweeping angles were certainly lovely in their own way. If she added a touch of make-up and the right hair-comb with a pretty kimono, Sakura would be quite the vision. Still, there wasn't so much as a hint of a lover. The only virile influence in her apartment was from him, her teammates' discards, and her own personal affinity for the masculine. It was a shame, he decided. The more he thought about Sakura, the more amazing she seemed—how had she gone unnoticed like this? Her skills were S-class, her intelligence a force, her appearance lovely and exotic, her heart naturally warm and open… she should have been the text-book perfect shinobi woman, so what happened?

'I should just keep her. Problem solved,' he thought, more out of grumpiness for the men leaving her alone than possessiveness. 'They're all blind if they can't see Sakura-chan's charm.'

At that point, he decided he was starting to sound too much like Naruto and needed to stop. Desperately so.

When a knock came at the door, Deidara stopped and felt out the chakra for a moment before even moving to wash his hands. The ANBU had been moving around more actively since several days ago, and he was already suspicious. This, however, was a call from Sakura's teammates. There was nothing to fear from them, supposedly. They had agreed to bring him here, allowing his keeper to have her way—that made them trustworthy enough.

Still, it wasn't just Naruto or Sasuke… Copy-Nin Kakashi was there, too. His lips quirked up grimly. As much as he wanted to believe they were safe, all things considered it wasn't likely to be a social call. His mind supplied images of "big brothers" attempting to scare him into taking good care of their "little sister." Humorous, yes, but they weren't civilians. They were three of the most powerful shinobi in the known world. 'How troublesome.'

When he finally reached the front door and opened it, he could immediately tell that, just as suspected, the situation wasn't a good one. "Something wrong, yeah?"

"You better be damn proud of yourself, asshole," Naruto snapped, fists clenched tightly at his sides.

Deidara ignored the insult and leaned against the doorway, waiting for the real reason he was being berated. Sasuke seemed like he wanted to say something and couldn't, so finally their teacher stepped forward, coal-black eye stone cold. He was reasonable, but the feeling that something was wrong tingled ominously down his spine…

"Sakura is in a coma, Deidara-kun."

He listened, but it was almost as if he didn't hear it. That couldn't have possibly been right. What was he saying? 'Sakura was exhausted when she left that morning, but she was fine aside from that, right?' he thought, his thoughts creeping out of the corners of his mind so slowly it was like dragging them out through a swamp.

"Wha…t? How?" His crossed arms fell to his sides, limp, unbelief etching painfully into his features as he took a hesitant step forward. "You're kidding, right? You can't he serious… She was tired, but just this morning she—!"

The man visibly grimaced at that.

"She was working on an autopsy with Tsunade-sama on one of the serial victims when she suddenly collapsed," the man said quietly, meeting his eyes with a hard glint. "She was desperate to clear you, Deidara-kun."

"Wait, hold the train, yeah. Clear me from _what_ exactly?"

The looks he received from all three of them were incredulous at best, and accusatory at worst. Still, they eventually seemed to all arrive at the same conclusion, and Naruto pushed past his teacher with a glint in his eye Deidara didn't know what to think of. The boy stopped nose-to-nose with him, intense blue eyes piercing his with a fierce gaze.

"The ANBU ops have been dropping like flies around you lately, you bastard, and you say you don't know? Killed by _explosives to the face_?"

_What would you do if they tried to pin something on you?_

"There've been four victims already, all of them died on duty watching _you_. Sakura-chan's been fighting tooth and nail for you, and you say she hasn't said a word about it?" Sasuke seethed, Sharingan spinning in and out of existence.

_Deidara, are you happy?_

"Sakura reported staying alert all night for several days to observe you, and seeing that you never moved from her side… but the majority are beginning to suspect she's covering for you, if for nothing else than her own life," Kakashi stated evenly.

_Today someone asked me…_

She'd never been "asked" about him; there was never the uncertainty of 'what if.' She'd been tiptoeing around the subject, likely wanting to tell him and yet refraining. She'd been putting on that strong face just for him. Specifically for him. All for him.

This was all for him.

Everything she was going through, all the mistrust and disrespect and sleepless nights and strained relationships… all for him. Furthermore, she clearly wanted him to maintain the illusion that all was right in the world even if it was a little hard on her. The blue eyes that accused him so hatefully were mirrors of his own—like he was accusing himself, and he couldn't claim it was wrong. Deidara backed away from the door, the pressure of that accusation forcing him to turn away and look at their apartment—his utopian cage, where he wasn't a monster and his past was an accepted fact and…

Where he wasn't a bloodthirsty killer and never was… that was the illusion she had created for him, while shouldering the suspicion of treason and the threat of execution. All for his sake, she took it, hid it away, and let him be the ignorant prince in an ivory tower, protected like a treasure in a safe. He couldn't help it, his lips unconsciously muttering his thoughts regardless of company, "What the hell, Sakura-chan? Why the hell would you…?"

His thoughts couldn't process any further. It was all for him.

* * *

The toast was burnt, dammit. It was nearly _charcoal_, thanks to her mother's absolute _inability_ to cook. Heeding her teacher's advice to not eat and her stomach's warning that it would be to their mutual benefit not to even _touch_ that deadly piece of bread, Sakura dashed out of the house before her civilian mother (darling woman, but she was absolutely clueless about the whole "I'm a genuine kunoichi thing) could harangue her for not eating. Preserving chakra was definitely the right course of action, so on just her own two legs she took off across town, her heart going at an unsteady and over-paced rhythm as she thought about a certain dark-haired teammate that would be there to meet her at the training grounds. Today was supposed to be a bit of a test issued by their new instructor to insure that they were ready to be genin—that by itself was exciting, but having _Sasuke-kun_ on her team? Now _that_ simply couldn't be beat. She'd even one-upped Yamanaka while she was at it, so that was a _real_ prize! It was a trick to keep running instead of skipping.

Several hours, a trauma or two and a less-than-rewarding bentou from the convenience store later, Sakura and her team (and she used the word with a bit of remaining reservation as Naruto and Sasuke got into another glaring match) were roughly shoved into position for their team photo. "You'll cherish this forever! You'll never forget the day!" and similar promises flowed out of the photographer's mouth, but she distinctly felt like he was attempting to placate the boys into some expression other than a scowl. She turned to glare at Naruto, but before she could open her mouth to bitch at him, he snapped to attention, his blue eyes honing in on her so intensely she forgot what she was going to say as he spouted, "Right, Sakura-chan? Don't you think this bastard's being really unreasonable?"

Blue eyes. She got so distracted by his blue eyes with little flecks of green that it felt disturbingly unnatural, and yet at the same time it didn't unnerve her at all.

"No."

Even as she deadpanned and disappointed her new 'teammate,' she turned around to face the camera and felt a smile well up on her face.

For some strange reason, his eyes had her thinking about white picket fences.

* * *

Naruto seethed, observing Deidara from the far side of the apartment. The blonde was still standing listlessly in the center of the room, staring blankly into thin air. The bastard hadn't known what was going on—he could tell he honestly hadn't, and Sakura was likely right that he wasn't responsible—but it was too hard to look at him and know what his teammate was doing for him, and see that he hadn't had a clue.

He knew Sakura liked to spoil people, but this was a little much, even for her.

"Oi, blonde bastard." Deidara's eyes snapped to him, but his head didn't move. His expression didn't change. "Did Sakura-chan even give you a clue about what was happening?"

He just stared for a long while, eyes eventually wandering back to the kitchen.

_Today someone asked me…_

"Yeah. I just didn't realize it at the time."

* * *

**AN: Wow. It's been a while. Again. *looks away guiltily* I'm really sorry, honest! School's been kicking my butt, and I've barely been writing at all-neither here, nor deviantart, for pleasure or profit. So please, don't be too terribly angry. Q_Q At least this update was good plot progress...?**

**We're nearing the climax now, so at the very least I want to attempt finishing this story before summer's end-three, maybe four chapters, I guess? This story has been in progress for a really long time (mostly due to my inability to stay focused), but It's finally nearing completion after nearly seven years from its first post! I'm a shame to writers. *cries* I hope you'll be patient with me and stick with it to the end!**


	13. Phantasm

**Chapter 13—Phantasm**

Things had been strange ever since the start of their first, legitimate "mission-like" mission. They were only supposed to guide Old Man Tazuna back to Wave Country, just as a precaution… but after the attack by some Rain chuunin, they knew better. Still, what was strange wasn't the miscategorization of their mission… it was that funny feeling she got inside when she met eyes with that bumbling clown, Naruto. Sometimes it was a sick pit in her stomach; sometimes it was a fluffy, fluttering feeling in her heart—okay, it definitely wasn't love, because she loved Sasuke so much she wanted to push him down and have her wicked way with him if she was honest (and if she were _really_ honest, she would say that inner Sakura had presented the idea that he might be the type to enjoy that)—but it was no joke that Naruto was garnering her attention in all the wrong ways and at all the wrong times.

Once, she could've sworn his hair was longer… but the illusion flittered off just as fast as it came, and she forgot about it.

Now, however… perched in a tree, waiting for the boys to catch up, enjoying the nice weather and the salt air mixed with the scent of pine, she watched them—or rather, _him_—with the utmost scrutiny. There wasn't anything unusual about him. He was his normal, idiotic self, and as usual he was falling behind at a perfectly steady pace. He growled and bitched and vocalized all his struggles as if that would make everything better, and she didn't feel a damn thing about him.

Being exasperated and greatly annoyed aside, she didn't feel anything. Was her heart still doing a lovely tap-dance for that sexy Uchiha? Yes, it was.

So if all her emotions (and her physical heart) were in working order, what was going on? The vague sense that he wasn't really the one she was thinking of was there one second and gone the next, but she felt off. Like, really off.

She felt as if she were looking at someone and expecting them to be someone else.

Her time to think was soon cast aside for a long while. With the attack from Zabuza, all her thoughts about expecting Naruto to be some other blue-eyed blonde that she couldn't even think of who might be… it all fell to the back of her mind.

The weeks stretched, however, and she didn't know what to do with herself. One morning she was in the bathroom brushing her teeth while preparing to go help Tazuna at the bridge, and Naruto showed up behind her. She wouldn't normally have been so shocked, she didn't think… but he put a hand on her left shoulder to balance himself as he reached around for his own toothbrush, and she could've sworn she knew that feeling. She nearly choked on the foam in her mouth, because she felt like leaning back into that hand, into his chest, and on the very tip of her tongue…

_Morning, Mr. Sunshine. You're going to beat Yukimura-san to the shower for once, eh?_

She didn't live in the same complex as the Yukimura family. She didn't know how early he got up in the morning. She _definitely_ didn't have anyone to call 'Mr. Sunshine.' Whilst chasing those thoughts around in her head, Naruto turned and grinned at her sheepishly, removing his hand before she decided to 'punish' him.

He escaped the bathroom and headed to breakfast before she could even clear her head.

The Chuunin Exams barreled in like a whirlwind afterward. Suddenly their puny amount of experience seemed not _nearly_ enough to keep them in a single piece. Sakura strained her mind to work out the problems on the page before her. If she, the top of her class on the paper tests, was having trouble like this… damn, she wanted to throw in the towel for thought of what Naruto was probably putting on his paper. This was a disaster.

If it were a practical exam at least there would be some hope, but any hope that bubbled up popped like an overfilled balloon the second she saw that test and heard the rules. Life sucked. No, she would correct herself—_Morino Ibiki_ sucked, and the Chuunin Exams were a way to torture them in his free time.

When the tenth question came up, her eyes landed on the back of Naruto's head, and she silently willed him to understand—he could raise his hand. It would be fine. They would understand. He couldn't help that this wasn't his thing, so they would accept that. In fact, she was already arranging a good argument inside her head, absolutely sure that Sasuke would blow his stack if Naruto _did_ raise his hand. For once, just _once_ mind you, she would have to stand against him…

Still, as she waited, and more and more and simply _more_ people backed out… he never raise his hand. She felt herself shaking. Why wasn't he cutting his losses? That absolutely baseless confidence of his still wasn't wavering? Her heart clenched, observing his orange-clad back.

'Always going on, Hokage, Hokage! Like and idiot… Still…'

Still, she didn't want to see that dream, that impossibly fabulously amazing pipe dream, crushed. So to that end… and _only_ that end (damn, Sasuke was going to bitch at her later and there was _no way in hell she'd tell him why she did it_) she would raise her hand.

It tickled her mind that she was always sticking her neck out for stupid, reckless blondes, and the thought shocked her… because Naruto was the only stupid, reckless blonde she could really think of that she would even _consider_ sticking her neck out for, and yet…

In that brief hesitation, she saw his hand rise. It was like seeing her hopes slashed and placed on a poll for all to see; she never thought she would feel that about him. She never thought she would—_had_—placed expectations on him like that. She'd been hoping he would, and now that she did she felt horribly upset. It wasn't right. That wasn't Naruto. That wasn't…

'Wasn't who?'

Then he went and made that outrageous statement, and she breathed such a sigh of relief that she completely forgot what she was thinking. Sakura thanked all the gods she could think of that Naruto was the kind of idiot he was. She'd gotten too used to it to think of him any other way.

As they left after the exam, she couldn't really help herself; with more giddiness than she'd felt since getting on the same team as Sasuke, she had to give that dodo-brain a hug. From _behind_, though—as _if_ she would do it from the front. Embarrassed as she was (dammit, it was PDA… he earned it though, so no helping it), Sakura didn't miss the wondrous look in his eyes. That bright, childish, awestruck look that said he didn't know what to make of what she'd just done, but that he certainly wasn't going to complain about it.

Sakura couldn't figure out why she thought she'd seen that look before.

* * *

She had been completely comatose, ever since she saw something in the autopsy that Tsunade still couldn't find. That was what Naruto told him.

He stopped dreaming. He felt like he stopped _seeing_. His senses were so numb that he could barely hear their questions, and when they beat him he couldn't feel the pain. There was light and darkness, and beyond it the gray of a life that had been suddenly deprived of that vibrant presence that had given all she could for an unworthy bastard like him. Not just an opportunity—she had given him so much more than just a _chance_. She had given him a home, a room, respect and a measure of affection. She had given him a life, and had squirreled him away, like a treasure.

For the first time since he was eight years old, he'd been _cherished_. Like a long-time friend, he hadn't just been _allowed_ by her side, but _welcomed_. That vibrant, dancing light of hers was snuffed out in an instant, gone from him, leaving a vacuum in its wake. She was still breathing, but the way they said it… the way he heard it, it could only be a matter of time until she was gone altogether.

He couldn't stand it. It shouldn't have been like that—not for her. If it were him…

If only it were him, instead of her.

The creaking steel bars swung open, and in came Naruto—a man who, according to Sakura, was very much like him. Their eyes nearly the same shade of blue, their hair the same shade of gold, their personalities equally patient and long-suffering while somehow also managing to be short-tempered and volatile. There'd been a couple of early mornings where he'd come to visit in the beginning, and they sat and had coffee together while barely speaking as Sakura tried to pull herself together. That man walked in now with a first aid kit, plopped down, and started searching his body for things he could do something about.

"Ino is coming by later, but I wanted to talk with you myself," he spoke, clearly and somewhat bluntly. With a little more force than necessary, he shoved the sleeve closest to him up and started roughly scrubbing the scratches with alcohol. "This is the least I can do. If Sakura-chan were here, she'd have you fixed up and kickin' in no time, but I'm not as skilled with chakra use as she is."

There was a pause in the one-sided conversation as he rummaged around in the tin box for a roll of bandages. Deidara watched him silently, waiting for him to continue. He couldn't think of anything to say anyway.

"Sakura-chan… she's the best, y'know. I'm not just saying that as her teammate," he picked up, starting on wrapping up an ugly gash just above his wrist. "I'm not saying it as a guy that used to be in love with her, either." Deidara met his eyes. That was news to him, but he wasn't really surprised. "She was the top in our year for book studies and chakra control—Sasuke couldn't beat her in those areas, even if his practical skills were better. When she picked up medical ninjutsu while we were split up, she did it faster than even Tsunade-baa-chan thought she would. She passed up Shizune-nee-chan a long time ago, especially since she was originally a genjutsu-type.

"Lately, even Baa-chan's been saying it—that Sakura-chan's going to be greater than she ever was. That's a big deal, coming from her… Y'know, she's the granddaughter of one of the previous Hokage—don't ask me to tell you which, 'cause I don't remember—and she was taught by Sandaime-jii-chan, and her partners were Ero-Sennin and Orochimaru. She's awesome, but she says Sakura-chan's going to be even better," he said, voice getting quieter towards the end. For a while again, Naruto didn't speak; the Jinchuuriki just continued to treat his wounds, however roughly, with a contemplative, serious face. It took a long while—he was clumsy and the bandages were poorly wrapped, the alcohol stung and in a few places the man had actually given him more scratches trying to fix him up. When it came to his face, Deidara could tell that he had a hard time deciding whether looking him in the eye was a good thing or a bad thing. Their eyes met for brief flashes, but it seemed that Naruto couldn't bring himself to look honestly. Instead he just focused on washing out the gash on his temple and the scrapes on his cheeks and the splits in several different places on his lips. In the end, his hands weakly fell into his lap, and all he could do was sit there.

Deidara wondered if he was trying not to cry, but for whose sake he couldn't be sure. It _should_ have been Sakura's case. It should have been. The longer he sat there though, head hung over his lap as it was, the more the ex-criminal thought that he might be grieving for him, too. It might be an apology, however silent… even a show of guilt. Any of it was probably more than he deserved, even this small show of kindness and smaller show of sorrow.

Then, as if all the clouds in the world would scatter on command, those eyes finally met his. Deidara felt his heart shudder, and he wanted to tell Sakura then that she was a fool for comparing the two of them. They were nothing alike, not with that look on his face. Naruto's eyes blazed to life in determination, something so clear it felt like the sun even in the dark, ugly cell.

"Sakura-chan is strong, Deidara. She'll be ok. In the meanwhile, I can't let anything happen to you for her sake."

* * *

It was shameful, but she couldn't help it. The overwhelming dread that shook her down to something even deeper than her soul caught hold of her, showed her horrifying visions, made her body go numb and her bones turn useless. The terror that swallowed her whole like an animal was the after product of bloodlust from someone far, far to above her hand. It made her want to scream.

_It's okay to scream, right?_

Death was walking on two feet, strolling toward her with such pleasure that her lungs, however desperate for air, were shriveling up together with her heart. The hopelessness even worse than fear was gnawing away at her, consuming her alive and only chewing because it was fun. She was going to die. She was going to sit there and die a miserable death because she couldn't even move and that murderous intent was squeezing her like a boa constrictor and she couldn't _breathe—_

Then it was like waking up from a bad dream, because suddenly she and Sasuke were in a tree, and there wasn't any deadly aura to stop her from breathing, or her heart from beating… but there was blood. In fact, the dread crept back up on her, settling around her shoulders like a demon as she finally connected the dots on what had happened. It was hard to miss the blood welling up to soak his bindings and shorts. It smelled different from the metal of a blade, and despite herself she could taste it on her tongue. When he pulled it out, a shiver spiraled its way down her spine.

He was too worked up. It felt like cold water on her brain, but like waking up for real she could see things differently. She wasn't afraid. She wasn't shaken at all. Sakura stared wide-eyed at Sasuke and wondered what the hell was going on, because there was no way he was ever this emotional… or so she thought. In that moment, like a shinobi catching a great chance, a giant snake rose up. Sasuke was covering her mouth… he was so scared that shinobi would find them that he wasn't paying attention—!

"_Sasuke-kun, there's a snake!_"

He finally snapped around, releasing her and both of them making a run for it in opposite directions. Sakura found a branch a little ways off, and stopped to get her bearings for a second. The snake turned for Sasuke, and she could only observe with something close to horrific realization—he wasn't just afraid. He was nigh on hallucinating. He treated the snake the same as he would an enemy, a heartrending scream making her heart skip a beat.

"_STAY AWAY FROM ME!_"

The serpent was dead in seconds; not even a fight. That was the split second of relief they had before _that man_ came out of it's body, as if a new little reptile hatching from its egg. It was wet and disgusting, and he was licking his lips again as if they were food, and…

And he was suddenly stretching and wrapping himself around the trees as if he were a snake himself…

Sakura didn't even think to stop the gasp that escaped her. Despite having never heard the name, it was echoing around in her head like a cymbal, accusing him, hating him, demanding his death with many voices of fear and anger and grief. A little corner of her heart, probably her strangely-absent other half, whispered vehemently, _Kill him NOW. Don't let him get away! He has to die! I want his blood on our hands! It's well-deserved vengeance! OROCHIMARU, THAT BASTARD…!_

'Orochimaru…Vengeance?'

Without getting an answer to her question, a sudden strike of weapons snapped her out of her shock. Like the ridiculously impulsive attempt-at-a-hero he was, there Naruto stood in the trees looking _much_ too proud of himself. She was going to beat the shit out of him later, but in the meanwhile she felt too much joy… Those blue, blue eyes were there, looking arrogant and proud and _damn _if she wasn't happy to see that. Sasuke didn't seem any better… well, maybe his tension had broken just a tiny bit, but he was still trying to tell them to run when, if he thought about it, they had no where to escape to. The gates were closed and locked, and they had five whole days to fend off this guy if they didn't do it now and get it done right. He tried handing over the scroll, and when he did…

Naruto wasn't the only one who lost confidence in him. Sakura did too. She agreed with that blonde idiot that, if nothing else… this wasn't the calm, confident Sasuke-kun she knew. This wasn't what he was like.

_Is this really what happened?_

The whisper was there and gone before she could grasp it, another giant snake attacking Naruto with a lumbering strike. The trees cracked and groaned, snapping and breaking as the snake coiled around them, over them, and attacks sent Naruto hurtling through trunks as thick as he was.

For a moment, it looked like he was down. The protective fear that wriggled up inside her felt foreign, but it was definitely there… and she latched on to it stubbornly. He had to be okay. He _had_ to be okay.

He was definitely, _definitely_…

That man—_Orochimaru_—made no hesitation about turning his attack back to Sasuke. As the serpent reared back, struck out, there was a second where she doubted what she was seeing. No—Naruto really _was_ there, stopping that attack, kunai plunged hilt-deep in the scaly nose pressed against his back.

"Hey. You okay over there, _scaredy-cat?_"

She couldn't believe it. It was true though, even through her rose-colored glasses—Sasuke was still cowed, not the least strengthened by Naruto's presence. Not the least desperate to protect a comrade in trouble, when he was picked up by that disgusting tongue, or when he was cast aside to fall to his death to the forest hundreds of feel below. It was ridiculous.

No, it was downright outrageous.

"_At least he's not a coward._"

* * *

The hours up to dawn were filled with unease. Sakura had every reason to be paranoid. Somewhere along the way, her mind had become clouded again—that objective, all-knowing feeling had dissipated a little, taking away the calm she'd felt and replacing it again with the itching fear that something was _bound_ to happen the very second she let her guard down.

The Sound nin attacked. Her traps were pathetic, she knew; textbook or not, she didn't have a natural sense for combat at all. Her skills were all in her books, and her control… but that meant nothing when she needed to defend herself. No amount of knowledge could change the fact that her enemies were strolling through their hiding place and getting ready to off her for whatever bad reasons they could think of. They didn't even need reasons—not in this place.

She could die at their hands and people would mark it up to the exam. No one would ever dream otherwise.

The tears were gathering up miserably again, but stopped the instant that green-covered back stood in front of her. Rock Lee, the sweetheart… the tension that gathered dissipated again, because she knew someone strong was in front of her.

In fact, even as she said, "We're your enemies now, too," she didn't feel like that in the least. She knew that he was going to protect her with his life, and just as expected he said that very thing in reply. The unclouded feeling was coming back again. It made her feel stupid for just sitting there, waiting for someone to protect her when she should damn well be getting up and doing it herself.

In the end though, he was brought down and out. The attack of sound on his body was too much, and she felt like she should've known. Kin caught her hair, fingers laced into it and holding on as if it were a leash. Sakura hated how ashamed she felt when the woman commented on it's softness, it's shininess—even if Kin's hair was longer, Sakura's was better cared for… because she'd spent time on it that, like the sound girl said, could've been spent training. She was holding her team back again, unable to protect them. Unable to move to their side when someone threatened their lives. Unable to stop herself from being a witness to someone's pleasure kill, because in the end she wasn't strong enough.

_I thought we were going to protect them this time. Am I not?_

Hell yeah. Hell, _yes_, she was.

Come hell, high water, bleeding ears, permanently deaf, mangled hair, mangled body, she was going to _protect her boys_. That meant cleaning up these bastards that stood between her and that goal. She felt like the world lifted off her shoulders as that knife cut the hair she'd been growing for five years, trying to gain that man's attention. She was going to do even better.

She was going to save his ass, and then he'd _really_ have to look at her.

So what. Sure, the basics were all she had; she could do some genjutsu, but that took time, and there weren't but one or two ninjutsu in her repertoire. Basics were her only saving grace, and she'd give them hell with all she had. Her awkwardness, her previous cowardly actions could now be a shield. They would have the enemy's estimation of her low enough that it would come back to really hurt them. It felt so, _so_ good for her kunai to slip into Zaku's arm, her hand covered and then her mouth filled with the taste of his blood. It was rewarding. Exhilarating. She didn't care that he was probably giving her a concussion as he steadily pounded on her skull, trying to make her let go. Her jaw let go before she was honestly ready, his fist sending her off several feet as it finally went slack.

_So what if we're weak? Aren't we going to protect them anyway?_

Absolutely. That was exactly what she was going to do. She was beginning to wonder what the hell was up with the stupid author of her story though; she makes a decision to beat their asses to hell and here came more interference. Okay, so maybe she should be a _little_ thankful that Ino had decided to stick up for her despite their differences, but at the same time it was pissing her off that her proof was getting put on hold. That fight didn't go well either, though. The repeating pattern of more people showing up and more people getting beaten was getting nonsensically old.

She was shocked when Lee's team showed up, wondering if even the proctors were going to stroll in to their miserable defense, before they let the tension out of _that_ moment by saying their interference wasn't needed. Any relief that came, however, disappeared the second she looked where they were referring.

Wild, dark chakra was wafting up from Sasuke's prone form like poisoned vapors, seeming to writhe and wriggle like an incarnation of something dastardly. He stood up, and that was a relief… but he didn't answer her. In fact, it felt like someone else completely because of how _twisted_ it was… his chakra, his aura, the anarchic presence of his that moved out to shake the whole area like a poisoned god reaching out his hand. A burn-like mark stretched along his skin, glowing like the embers of a fire, setting only a little light on his darkened face and form.

"Sakura… which bastard made you look like that?"

She thought he was being normal—if not surprisingly protective—when he asked that… but his words had an unsettling growl behind them, beneath them. He muttered about being an avenger… about abandoning himself to the devil…

_Orochimaru is the devil. Even the Christians know he disguises himself as a snake._

That wasn't all though. She knew those Sharingan eyes, even if she'd only seen them a few times since he obtained them… she knew their look, the feel of them on her person, and even how his demeanor changed to absorb all the information he received from them.

_This_ wasn't the right Sharingan. It was wrong. It was off. It was stronger, yes, but… it wasn't the same.

In fact, it was completely different. Like siblings, there were similar traits, but this wasn't Sasuke.

The unnatural speed of his attacks, the vehemence in his actions, his face… it wasn't Sasuke. The Housenka with shuriken was definitely something he would do, but once he broke in to Zaku's stance, turned him on his knees and pulled back his arms the way he did, she could tell. This wasn't him. It wasn't in his nature to be cruel. That smirk on his face wasn't the teasing one she was used to, it was genuinely taking pleasure in the hunt.

In the kill.

This wasn't Sasuke. It wasn't him… it was…

* * *

**AN: Now who is it really, I wonder~ 8D Didn't I update so fast? And it's just over five pages! It's long for once, *and* fast! I deserve a little praise, I think~ Hope ya'll enjoyed this one, it was pretty interesting to write, because it honestly does fit almost exactly in with the original canon, expressions and all~ At any rate, couple more chapters to go-look forward to it~!  
**


	14. Hellcat and Canary

**Chapter 14—Hellcat & Canary**

Sakura's body was still; her skin remained pallid and lifeless, her eyes closed, her fingers still. At her bedside, Sasuke threaded his fingers together and hunched over the mattress, watching her with all the attention he wasn't able to direct elsewhere.

They were a measly 19 now. It'd been almost six years since their team was formed; their forced bonding had probably created a natural disaster or two along the way. Naruto being the idiot he was, Sakura being the smart-ass _she_ was… and Sasuke with a little too much pride for anyone to handle gracefully. They'd grounded him. Having to deal with Naruto's antics and Sakura's attitude made it impossible for him to stay aloof, and he ended up on their level before he knew what was happening. When they came for him three years ago out in the middle of nowhere, between the two of them and Kakashi he'd pretty well gotten his ass handed to him—especially Sakura, who spent the next two days knocking him around like small siblings would get in a tickle fight. She would walk by him and land a new knot on his head, and wouldn't even say anything other than, "I've got catching up to do."

Admittedly she was in the right, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

Orochimaru was dead. That supposedly meant he could move on with his life… but Itachi was still alive. He was still living and out there, roaming around with the criminal organization that _Deidara_ had merrily skipped away from at the (unwillingly) proffered opportunity. He was probably still killing people for no good reasons, torturing their minds for his amusement and then doing his wicked deeds. The thought didn't hurt as much as before—it didn't turn him into a mass of hatred and anger to think about it. That was probably all Sakura's fault (and a bit of Naruto's "Believe it!" syndrome), since she laid down the law the whole trip back from sound. Just because he felt the responsibility to kill Itachi didn't mean he wasn't also responsible for the safety and protection of his village and, more importantly, his friends.

That friend, that _girl_ so full of a ridiculous amount of strength and life and _will_ to simply _be_… was prone in a hospital bed, now in a coma for nearly a month. Despite the machines at her side, his fingers unconsciously moved down to check the pulse in her wrist anyway. How many times had she flat-lined? How many arrhythmias had popped up in the last weeks? Her body was weakening, her heart ready to give out altogether; the whole hospital's staff was antsy as hell because she was in here, fading away, ready to be gone the second they took their eyes off her.

He'd never been a praying man, but Sasuke occasionally found himself whispering pitiful wishes out the window, or at the ceiling or floor, sometimes even into his arms as he held himself together by sheer force. It was pathetic for a man to be this weak, but because it was Sakura… because it was the woman who laid her life on the line for him time after time and beat the shit out of him when he needed it and crammed common sense in his head because she declared he must've been born without it… _that woman_ was fading away like a ghost instead of dying gloriously like she should have, in battle with some bad-ass enemy that just happened to get the better of her, or who insanely outmatched her.

He wanted to blame all of this, _all of it_, on Deidara. He wanted to say that he should've been killed in his sleep the same night he saved them, that he should've been killed long ago like the ANBU that surrounded him. Sasuke really, _really_ wanted to do that… but he still couldn't. He couldn't find it in himself, for whatever reason, to take all his hatred and focus it again. If he thought about it, it was probably Sakura's fault. After she berated him over and over again about bottling up his rage about his brother, maybe he just couldn't hold on to it anymore. He wanted to be mad for her sake… but undoubtedly the kunoichi laying before him would lay him out flat, truss him up in a full-body cast and put him on bread and water for as long as she wanted if he tried.

She forgave Deidara, the same way she forgave him. She forgave the killing, the senseless choices, the idiotic stunts—the bad, the worse and the stupid. She accepted it, beat the hell out of them once or twice, and then tossed it off in some corner of her formerly-horrendous closet. That was Sakura.

It was just her way, and he was too thankful for it to deny someone else the same access. It wasn't something he could hide away for himself.

Sakura's pulse jumped. It wavered, jumped again, and then went back to normal. There was no telling what was happening inside her mind, but the nurses would start talking as if it were doomsday again if he told them… so Sasuke ignored it, and just kept his fingers pressed unnecessarily against her pulse. His black eyes remained on her face, and continued to observe her, just as he had been every second he hadn't been away from this place.

"Sasuke, any change?" Naruto asked, slipping in to the room behind him. The Uchiha muttered a negative, and his best friend pulled up another pipe chair and flopped down, running a hand through his messy hair. "Tsunade-baa-chan's still trying to figure out what she saw in that guy's brain stuff. Sakura-chan didn't say anything when she reached for it; just touched something, got kinda dazed and collapsed. I finally managed to get that much out of her this morning while she was hung-over."

"How are the ANBU moving?"

"Yeah… that's the bad news."

Sasuke didn't really need to ask. Their small band, however powerful, couldn't hold them off forever. This was a matter of the village's security, their safety—Tsunade's faith in her apprentice couldn't appease them any further. They were at the end of their rope.

"Deidara's been—"

At that moment, Sakura's pulse jumped. The sudden spike was so loud and sharp it hurt their ears, and it only raised. In fact, it kept going up. It went so high that the nurse that came rushing in screamed. The flood of motion that followed, nurses and medics dashing into the room in a frenzied, disorganized mess, nearly forced the two of them away from her bedside. The heart monitors were screaming; they were beeping so constantly that all present swore it should've short-circuited already. No human heart should be going that fast. The rate she was going, she would—!

At that moment, the peak of tension, Sakura shot from the bed with eyes open. Needles ripped out of her arms and the oxygen mask snapped off its tank, her hands wrapping vehemently around Sasuke's neck and gripping with intent to kill. The nurses were too stunned to react; in her sudden adrenaline-fueled recovery, Naruto couldn't pull her off. The bestial strength in her arms hurled him across the room, knocking over the IV that was previously attached to her hand. The pallid skin burned to life with a fever… but her eyes were unfocused. They were directed at his… but Sasuke could tell. She wasn't seeing him.

Sakura's fingers gripped his throat almost to the point of snapping his neck. It was counter-logical, but he stopped resisting. He closed his eyes and reached out for her, fingers trailing awkwardly over her facial features as gently as he could until he reached her temple. Sakura was awake, but she wasn't sane.

She was caught in a genjutsu.

Her crazed eyes were telling enough for him. If it were simple she would've already realized she was caught and would've ended the farce. She would've broken out all on her own, because she was good enough to do that. Instead, she was having trouble. This attack probably meant she was resisting the control… but she hadn't broken free. That meant it was _his_ turn to help. Sasuke gripped the hair at her temple for leverage, pressing a sharp burst of chakra out of his knuckles and into her head. Like a physical blow, it seemed to throw her off for a moment; it wasn't enough. He sent another blow, and then simply let it stream inside her, coaxing her out, leading her like a little light he could only hope she saw. The genjutsu was strong. She was still resisting.

He could feel the bones in his neck beginning to pop and crack, his breathing coming shallow and awkward, his lungs burning and his windpipe straining to the point of no return. He was blacking out in fact, but he couldn't stop just yet.

… Damn if he didn't hope she would wake up soon.

Naruto scrambled up from where he was sent sprawling, and if Sasuke were able to talk he would've told the idiot to hit her with the stupid pole. It would've helped a little, at least. He didn't seem to get that mental message (more likely he was ignoring it), and came charging at her again, putting her in a headlock in an attempt to drag her off. She didn't make a sound, lost in her illusion, mind and voice trapped in a maze. Naruto pulled, forcing her to choke… but her hands didn't loosen. Sasuke gasped, spots popping like fireworks in his vision, and with the last bit of sanity he could muster he activated his Sharingan.

He met Sakura's eyes, and entered her world.

The scene that met him was a day he would never forget—it was a turning point that had nearly destroyed them; it had torn them apart for over three years, and nearly caused him to chase the shadows of his past to a stupidly early demise. There was his figure, being eaten away by the curse-mark… but Sakura wasn't holding him. She didn't hug him from behind, like she did then. This 'him' she was strangling with all her might, screaming something he couldn't process in the shock of what he was seeing. In this vision, she was trying to kill him.

It hurt. It really, _really_ hurt. All the things he'd done to her, the things she'd done for him… and something in this world of hers made her snap. It was probably something she should've snapped for a long time ago. The guilt and regrets that were still lingering in his mind started to creep out of their hiding places. He made a good show of being unaffected; from the outside, anyone would think he had already reconciled that part of his past. Naruto, and maybe Kakashi, knew better… but Sasuke had far from forgiven himself. Sakura also… hadn't completely forgiven him. She had taken him back, she had given him a modicum of trust… but it was obvious from this scene, and things he had already noticed, that Sakura would just never believe in him _that much_ ever again. Her disappointment hurt, especially when it was the very same, if not deeper, that he held toward himself. Seeing a quick shadow fleet through her eyes, noticing the occasional lack of the affectionate '-kun' suffix, the somewhat stiff tone she would have when speaking to only him… he wasn't oblivious. She probably wished he was, but damn it…!

"_You're not Sasuke-kun! Who the hell are you, bastard?_"

He probably should've waited. He probably should've just gotten her attention, and let her continue the interrogation after releasing that other 'him.' He should've… but his ability to stay in the genjutsu was fading with his consciousness, so he had to wake her up. He reached her apparition just in time to see her rear back as if in recognition…

The next thing he knew they were back in the hospital room, his ears popping and eyes going blind, his throat and lungs burning with the need for air before he was suddenly freed, body slipping weakly to the floor.

Sakura panted, eyes suddenly opened to what she was doing. Sasuke's throat was smooth and burning hot beneath her fingers, and for a moment she was morbidly fascinated by his suffering face before she shook herself and released him. This was the real Sasuke. He was here with her in his casual hakama that he wore when not on missions, his eyes were black and a little teary from pain; Sasuke was here, just the way he was supposed to be.

The way he was supposed to be… because all those events had been a dream. No… they were a genjutsu. They were a prison someone had built so carefully that her heart had been lulled to think that she was living in that world of the past when they were still close… when they were a team that was absolutely unshakable. Someone who would know enough about them—about _her_—with the power to weave an illusion so strong she didn't even realize she was caught until the web surrounded her…

She didn't even have to draw conclusions. Sakura had already seen the answer for herself within the same vision that trapped her. Naruto checked her throat, already making apologies for bruising that she didn't give jack shit about. Sasuke looked up at her, his mind stabilizing a bit with the return of oxygen to his system.

"I'm glad you're awake, but that was one hell of a greeting."

"Excuse me, I think I just found the answer to all our problems. Are you going to listen or bitch?"

The hospital personnel seemed to deflate, their emergency patient suddenly awake and throwing snarky comments as if she were never in a debilitating coma at all. A few exchanged looks of exasperation; a nurse or two wore ridiculously relieved looks that really _weren't_ overkill, even though in light of her miraculous recovery they seemed excessive. A few of the older staff even had the audacity to look disappointed and start talking about going out for drinks after their shift. Regardless of their reaction, all of them eventually filed out of the room, Sakura disappearing into the attached bathroom and cranking up the shower.

"So what's the answer to our problems, Sakura-chan?" Naruto asked from outside the door. Sasuke moved back to his chair, hunching over and rubbing his throat gingerly. Inside, she spoke over the rushing of water.

"I'm not saying it here; walls have too many ears," came the answer, muffled by distance, steam and the door. "What I need right now is information. How long have I been out?"

"Almost a month."

"DAMN. I knew it felt like a while. What's been going on?" she asked, dumping shampoo and conditioner both in her hand and scrubbing them in quickly before rinsing. The answer took a while; she was done with washing her body and had turned the water off before Naruto finally responded, his words slow and hesitant.

"Deidara's supposed to be executed tomorrow."

Her hands stopped in the middle of ringing her hair dry, and regardless of her naked body she dashed out into the room to stare at them.

Naruto's blue eyes met her in all seriousness—the same blue as the mad bomber himself, who wasn't actually mad at all. His hair the same shade of blonde, their attitudes equally mature and immature in the best and worst of ways, this existence that, in that illusion, had constantly told her something was amiss… Here he was, telling her that the great mother hen of men was about to be…

She wanted to deny it. She wanted to say he was lying, and have him smile and joke back that of course he was, and then say something pervy and stupid about her standing in this room between her two _male_ teammates naked as the day she was born. She wanted him to be the stupidly carefree Naruto that made everything okay right now. Instead, Sakura could see the face of a man who was on his way to being Hokage; the man who devoted himself down to his soul for his loved ones. That man who was determined to be their saving grace, while lightening their sins… he was the one who looked at her, with eyes that told her a very, very bad story.

"You were his only advocate, y'know; me and Sasuke couldn't do anything near what you could. While we kept surveillance on him in the holding cell, the murders stopped; it was too much evidence for us to handle," he said, voice mellowed with regret. "You were being cared for only because Tsunade-baa said that you might have some kind of evidence or testimony… and really, we still caught an assassin or two that got brave. We had our hands tied."

The silence was unbearable, but also unbreakable. There weren't words enough to describe what each of them was thinking, not in any of the dictionaries on earth. Sasuke got up from his rickety chair and took the towel off the counter inside the bathroom door, and rather than hand it to Sakura and expect her to automatically snap out of her stupor, he dried the few places he could see hadn't air-dried already; her lower back, sides and calves. He knew she wasn't paying any attention to him… but he observed her eyes closely. Sasuke didn't know what to do himself; this time, only Sakura had the answer.

When he saw that determined fire begin to light up her eyes, he knew they were about to enter the eye of whatever maelstrom had blown its way into their world, and she was going to beat the hell out of it without any help.

* * *

Sakura didn't bother knocking—she kicked down the door like a diva, and then smiled at all the ANBU present, letting their shock sink in for a minute as they realized that, yes, Earthquake Haruno herself was back in action.

"Hello all. Good to see you're well. You may not be by the time I work _each and every one of you over_; but don't worry, I promise to heal you after~."

"Sakura!" Tsunade looked surprised; that likely meant that this meeting had been in session long enough that no one had been able to give her the news yet. "How—?"

"Shishou, you said I might have evidence regarding Deidara-san, didn't you? I'm here to tell you exactly what it is," she stated sweetly. Naruto inched a little further away from her, almost prepared to run; Sakura's outrageous temper was in full swing, and even though he approved… he really didn't want to get caught in her wake.

The masked operatives around the room were starting to gear up for a fight; a few were even muttering comments; one or two even dared to suggest that, after covering for a criminal, she was going to give him up in hopes for a lighter sentence. He almost pitied their ignorance.

Almost.

With the confidence of someone who had saved their lives many multiples of times, Sakura strode through the den of hyenas to the lioness whose eyes burned on her like fire, intent to hear _exactly_ what she had to say. In fact, Team 7 was absolutely certain in that moment that if one of the ANBU made a move to harm her, his life would be forfeit.

At the door to her office, Yamato and Kakashi appeared with Deidara between them, garnering very little attention as Sakura's presence—her anger, her pride, and probably her arrogance—filled the room to such an extent that, like an actor fully into her role, no one could take their eyes off her. No one including Deidara, who looked so shocked and overjoyed that in that moment that if Naruto hadn't already come to the conclusion he was innocent, he would have immediately realized it then. The chakra shackles on his wrists strained as his hands fisted in excitement, blue, cat-like eyes widening on that petite and yet awe-inspiring figure in the room. Sakura turned, eyes landing on them—on _him_—as if she knew they were there from the second they entered the room, and laid on their ears her most shocking declaration.

"I'm here to tell you how Uchiha Itachi is out to frame Deidara and myself for treason."

* * *

**AN: So. Did I throw you a good and proper curveball? 8D We've finally hit the climax, folks! Just one or two chapters to go~ Probably two. My head is planning for two. **

**At any rate, it's really been a long time coming; CP has been sitting on the internet for almost six years, so it's going to be sad to see it finish... but it'll also be a relief, because now I can start doing other things! I keep thinking "Okay, I'm going to wrap up my fanfiction career and move on with my life!" ...but yeah, I kinda doubt I'll ever stop writing fanfiction. I just keep getting more and more ideas. XD Still, here's to aiming for finishing _all_ my stories currently online! Hope ya'll will keep an eye out in the future, as well. ;P  
**


	15. The Reason

_Announcement: Hey everybody! This is YKajitaka, here to tell you something very special! Over the (much too long) years that it's taken me to write this, I've gotten a lot of positive feedback on the story. I've been so fortunate to be able to share this story with you, and I'm so happy that ya'll have stuck with me to the end._

_Because I've had such great support, I'm going to illustrate some of my favorite scenes and post **Clay Penance** as an eBook on deviantArt! This may take me a little while again, but if you love CP and want to support the story or myself as an author, I hope you'll watch my deviantArt account, YKajitaka, and keep an eye out for all my art and eBooks as I post them!_

_I've been really blessed to have all your support these years, so please enjoy this last chapter!_

* * *

**Chapter 15—The Reason**

Sakura met the eyes of the man she was risking her life for. Their personal acquaintance was so short—a mere few months. Still, from the day he saved her she had laid her head on a block, her neck out to tempt Fate's executioner. Then she'd gone and done the unthinkable; she might as well have insulted Destiny's mother, because it was doing its damndest to kill her right now.

Like the fearless idiot Naruto taught her to be, she was walking right into it.

She could list a hundred reasons for him to be executed all on her own; she'd read his file, and fought against him, and killed his partner who nearly killed her also. If someone brought a list of charges against him, she'd have to throw up her hands and say, "Yeah, he's guilty. No use denying it." Instead she was standing in the middle of a room of people ready to condemn her, fighting for that something inside of him that apparently only she could see. She was fighting for all those stupid reasons he gave her by sticking around her apartment, cooking her meals and cleaning her house, and bitching over nothing in a way that made her laugh. He gave her reasons to do all the stupid things she'd done in the past three months, and she didn't care that they'd landed her here in a roomful of danger with about ten minutes to explain herself before the fur started flying.

Sakura could think on all of it, and she didn't regret even one thing that happened.

"When I worked that autopsy with Tsunade-sama a month ago, I saw a shard of metal in the brain matter. I don't know if it was an illusion planted just for me or if there really was a shard there, but regardless I touched it and found myself in a genjutsu that replayed my past from the day I first met my team for training.

"Everything was exactly as I remembered it; from Naruto's brainless antics to Sasuke's pointless arrogance, and even my inner raging at their mutual moments of stupidity, it was all exactly the same. I was essentially trapped in my own memories, and the only reasons I ever noticed anything wrong were brief moments when the genjutsu seemed to overlap with my current memories of the last several months. Especially Naruto, who constantly seemed to overlap with Deidara… who, at the time, I hadn't met, and therefore didn't recognize."

Sakura paused to take in the room. This was the back-story; anyone who had ever been caught under a genjutsu would know that this was certainly a staple of the trade. The masked faces didn't give away what her audience was thinking, but the tense postures told her they were listening. They were waiting for evidence. She threw another log on the fire, meeting Deidara's eyes for a moment again before she turned back to her teacher.

"However, the illusion was so intricate that the least bit of discrepancy was all the more obvious," she continued. "In the second part of the Chuunin Exams, Sasuke and I were attacked by Orochimaru. We were overwhelmed by his bloodlust, to the point of it showing us illusions of our deaths. As genin, you can guess how badly shaken we were; even Ibiki-san's test on our mental capacities hadn't _touched_ the fear we experienced then. Thanks to Sasuke's quick thinking, he was able to get both of us out of there.

"This was where things started to unravel, however unintentionally," she breathed, taking care to relate _exactly_ what happened. This was her evidence; this was the real thing, right here. "Sasuke and I were badly shaken by the encounter, and true to my memories he was terrified when facing Orochimaru when he came after us… but every hesitance and scream was exaggerated. It wasn't by much, but just the tiniest bit; you would've have known the difference if you hadn't been through it personally. Naruto was exactly the same; his timing, his strength, and the way he nettled Sasuke were all exactly the same, but Sasuke himself was off.

"From then, it was like a fog had lifted off my mind. I felt more objective, more certain, less afraid," she said, and her words became a little more subdued. Even now it created a sense of wonder inside her, because for a short while, she had been _absolutely sure_ of her future. She'd known that they wouldn't die, and that Naruto would save them, and that they wouldn't be attacked in their sleep. She was absolutely certain that everything… everything but _that_… would be okay. "Sasuke became more irrational as the fight went on, and was eventually taken by the curse seal. I was left alone with the two of them, just as in the past… but the vision still continued. I felt sure everything would be alright while that 'fog' was gone from my mind. I believe that was the jutsu losing some effect, though I'm not sure why it weakened. Just the same, morning came and I was attacked by Orochimaru's pawns, the Sound genin Dosu, Zaku and Kin. My memories didn't change again until Sasuke awoke from the curse seal, and even then, at first, he seemed the same as in my memories. It didn't last long before he _overreacted_ again."

She passed her eyes over the crowd, meeting the many pairs of eyes as she glanced across their faces. Sasuke and Naruto looked at her in anticipation; Naruto didn't know much of this story, but the man who was playing her bad guy was standing in the same room, listening to her less-than-glorified memories of him. Deidara was riveted on her, staring so intently that he was barely breathing. This was another part of her he didn't know. This was another reason why.

"Itachi, like an actor, took the guise of his younger brother inside his genjutsu. He was there from the beginning, acting out the part. The nuances began to falter as the illusion continued; no doubt his stamina was flagging after keeping me under for a month. It was beginning to break, and he had no choice but to take action. The moment I realized something was wrong, he moved not my mind, but my whole body… to attack Sasuke in my hospital room, just as I was attacking him in my dream."

"Sasuke only had two tomoe on the Sharingan when we participated in the Chuunin Exams. Within that vision, he had three—he had three tomoe, right up until the real Sasuke entered the genjutsu and pulled me away from him. At the last moment, Itachi intended on using the Mangekyou Sharingan to kill me at the same time I killed Sasuke in real life."

She supposed even Sasuke hadn't realized how close both of them had been to dying. The stricken look on his face was the same one she had to hide when coming back to reality. Sakura couldn't even begin to imagine what he was thinking when she attacked him; if she were honest… she didn't want to know. It'd been nearly three years since he came home, but out of all of them Sasuke was the one who thought the hardest about it. When she wrapped her hands around his throat, she supposed it wouldn't be surprising if he thought 'he deserved it.' Naruto looked absolutely aghast, which she expected. That stubbornly innocent mind of his didn't want to think anything could take his team away from him; she was thankful for that in these cases, because it often times made things easier—fights, apologies, accepting and forgiving all seemed easier because of him. The weight of the situation—the mortality of it—seemed as if it were about to collapse the ceiling in on their heads, their eyes wide and filled with the emotions that followed each possible scenario their minds merrily and morbidly threw in their faces. In the midst of her team, Deidara went deathly white. She could make out the capillaries on his face, even from a distance. He looked really ragged, now that she took the chance to observe him; his clothes were dusty and somewhat dirty, and she could see injuries left over from some over-zealous interrogators. She would have to fix those later. The weight from her shoulders, at least, was a little lighter now that she'd finally found the answers they were all looking for. Tsunade was about to ask her a question, Sakura's attention remained on the accused.

He was one of 'her boys' now, too.

"Deidara-san, what's with that look on your face? You're white as a sheet, y'know," she teased, smiling softly. There was no need for pretenses now, in front of this room full of skeptics and plaintiffs. At a loss for words, he tried to tell her exactly what he was thinking and couldn't; he hung his head and gritted his teeth, and for a moment she could've sworn he was about to cry or scream or read her the riot act for all he was worth; even if he did, she would gladly listen to every word. He didn't say anything though, and she felt her heart swell with affection in a way it hadn't in a very long time. "Come on, now. What's wrong?"

Sakura walked over to him, but before she could get very far he strode to meet her; the whole room tensed as he moved, but she didn't. With the shackles on his hands attached to his waist, he couldn't embrace her… but Deidara buried his nose in her neck and stood as close to her as he could possibly manage, and silently willed himself not to say anything. He couldn't hold his emotions in that well; if he tried to speak in this overwhelming moment—attempted to tell her how just the _thought_ of her death made him feel like dying for real—he was sure he would have a breakdown right then and there. So instead of saying anything, he simply breathed her in, and waited for her to speak so he could really, _really_ listen to her voice. Her normally soft hair was a bit rough from lack of care; her clothes smelled like antiseptic, and her skin felt cold. She wasn't back to full health yet, and probably wouldn't be for a while. After being in a coma for a month she was probably relying on her medical jutsu and acting skills to make up for atrophied muscles, but the pallor of his skin was still terrible. She laughed softly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a solid embrace.

"Did you miss me?"

It went without words that he had. Deidara still couldn't muster the strength to speak, but conversation wasn't really a necessity at the moment. They weren't lovers. They might not exactly be friends, either. 'Comrades' was too simple to describe the depth of it, and 'kindred spirits' only addressed a fraction of it. In that moment though, they came to the conclusion that not knowing was fine; it was okay to go with the flow, just as they were already doing. Sleeping side-by-side, taking care of each other, sacrificing for each other's sakes… those sorts of things were already natural for them. If it progressed, that was fine; if it didn't, that was fine too.

The current relationship was already so overwhelming that neither knew if 'more' was really necessary.

Tsunade sighed, and decided that the two of them would remain oblivious to the crowd no matter what happened, so she moved on with the next order of business.

"Kakashi, Yamato, Sasuke and Naruto; get an Inuzuka and find the bastard's trail before he recovers from that damned genjutsu. Hana and Kiba have been on-scene before, so one of them should have a clue to offer. Unit 10, organize scouts to seal the borders; if he and his partner attempt to cross, do not engage. Mark their heading from a distance and report back. All available units are to join with Team Kakashi at the last marked point and overtake them from there."

* * *

The apartment was musty as hell. Dust had settled on every surface, even on the dishes that Deidara had washed and set next to the sink to dry. It was all exactly as they left it though; every CD in its place, the same DVD cases left open and scattered on the coffee table, the candles still halfway burned down in their class stands.

Despite all that needed doing, Sakura and Deidara dropped to the couch and ignored the cloud of dust that mushroomed up around them. She lit the candles on the table, and turned on the TV to see what movie had gotten left in the DVD player. It didn't really matter which one it was; it was noise. It would make this abandoned room feel lived in again, because at the moment neither of them felt like a cleaning spree.

There were a hundred things they should talk about. There were many, many reasons they shouldn't be sitting here vegging in front of some mafia thriller that neither of them cared very much about watching. They should be discussing his suspended sentence, the team going after Itachi and their chances, all the things they needed to do tomorrow because after a month of not working, Sakura's bank account was looking rather bleak. They could even have a very necessary talk about their ambiguous relationship that neither of them was very intent on changing, but instead they sat on her ratty old couch that needed replacing and watched her old DVDs that had scratches on them and said nothing out of the many things that needed saying… and both of them were okay with that. They were absolutely content to sit there with their fingers woven together, minds nowhere at all but in that moment, attuned to their companion, listening to each other's breathing and thankful that they were both alive. Thankful that they could sit here in her dirty apartment, in the middle of a village full of trained assassins, extortionists, and battle-hardened warriors with chips on their shoulders, and listen to crappy movies that were decades old and had sucky effects and just simply be content in the knowledge that, at least tonight, they were absolutely safe and no one would be after them. The whole world was going to leave them alone, at least for tonight, and even though usually they would enjoy it to the fullest by pulling stupid teenager stunts… this time, they just couldn't.

The silence was so comfortable that breaking it with anything else seemed like a waste.

After a while, they ended up closer together; instead of being apart by a foot of space and only linked by their hands, the space diminished as they both moved in. Sakura tucked her feet up next to her, and her head settled on Deidara's shoulder as his cheek pressed against her forehead. It didn't matter if they looked like more than friends; fact was, they probably were. They were each other's saviors; normally if you saved someone's life in return you _should_ consider yourselves even… but the feelings of 'I owe you too much' wouldn't disappear. They were closer than lovers; more important to each other than lovers. They each seemed to come to the conclusion that, even if they were to part was, get married and have kids some day, and lead completely separate lives… they would be the most important person to one another, because the depth of gratitude simply couldn't be explained away or erased or overwritten.

They were each other's reason for moving forward in a situation that was equally debilitating, equally detrimental. They had each spurred a change in the other that not only those around them, but they themselves hadn't understood. They were equal parts good and bad for each other, and in the end the balance was so perfect, even to their great desire to repay the other, that even at this moment…

Even right then, when things could've become more, could've fallen into less… they were absolutely happy as they were. Just like that, they fell into a deep sleep that they wouldn't wake from for a long, long while.

* * *

_~9 Months Later~_

"Beat Yukimura-san to the shower again? You're getting good."

"It kinda helped that you almost backhanded me in your sleep, but thank you."

Deidara smirked at Sakura through the mirror as he adjusted his headband. After six months it looked a little worse for wear, but the leaf symbol was still clearly etched in the metal. She yawned and scratched her head, ruffling her hopelessly tangled hair without much thought. In the shoebox-sized bathroom, he turned around and wrapped his arms around her waist, giving her a devilish smile.

"So what are you up to today?" he asked, but the glint in his blue eyes said he already knew _exactly_ what she was doing. Sakura met his gaze fondly, leaning up to press a light kiss on his lips.

"I am _off_ today, as you damn well know, and I will not be moved from this apartment for the next 24 hours so long as you promise to do the same," she muttered sleepily.

Their early mornings were more out of habit than anything else. Evening to midnight generally had the largest influx of patients, but Sakura was generally glued to her desk with a pile of paperwork for eight long hours before she came home at a reasonable time of the night, only called in to surgery if something evil reared its ugly head. Deidara refused to take the ANBU exams, but he was perfectly happy as a Jounin instructor to a group of bratty 13-year-olds. His first team was showing a bit of promise, but they were all beginning to mimic his brazen attitude… a trait that, according to Naruto, wasn't bad for a ninja. Tsunade wanted to disagree with him, but as the newest Hokage there wasn't much point. His methodology was completely different from hers, and that was fine.

"I swear that I'll ignore all three of my brats for one day, and not leave the house."

He didn't hesitate to lean in and press his lips to hers, warm and insistent and a little arrogant as he always was. She also had no qualms about opening up to him, accepting all the affection he gave her as his lips wandered from hers to her chin, the underside of her jaw, the sweep of her throat as she leaned her head back for him. Deidara let his affectionate kisses wander, unhurried and comfortable, with little desire to make more of it than exactly what they were doing in that moment. Sakura's hands stroked up the backs of his arms, callused hands gliding roughly over the lean, unscarred muscle there before gripping at his shoulders as he tipped her back to nip playfully at the edge of her sleeping shirt.

"It's too early in the morning for this," she breathed, but she certainly wasn't stopping him.

"I don't see you complaining though, yeah~."

"Well, this counts as relaxing too."

"I see," he quipped, nipping quickly at the shell of her ear. Deidara let her go, hands sliding teasingly over her waist before he left with a wink. "Do what little thing you do and I'll get breakfast ready, yeah."

"Hey, I do more now! I actually bother with all the skincare shit, don't I?"

The exclamation followed him down the hall, covering the snickers he couldn't stifle on his way to the kitchen.

Deidara glanced at the calendar as he passed it, and it felt a little ticklish to know that they were just about to hit their first anniversary. The apartment that was once _hers_ was now _theirs_, and it still felt ticklish to see his things mixing in with hers in other places; books on pyrotechnics and genjutsu and good teaching methods were intermingled with her medical texts and the harlequin romances that would've long-since gathered dust if he didn't always clean them. His sci-fi suspense movies were mixed in with her romantic comedies and B-rated zombie flicks, and the new couch (absolutely _do not ask_ what happened to the old one) was his style in decorating, even if it was in her colors of bright red and khaki and muted green. The kitchen tile (which was previously some heinous linoleum crap) had since been one of his 'projects,' and it was now bright and clean; it made for a comfortable cold against his feet as he passed over the red and white ceramic checks. The island he built in his free time was now his favorite place to prepare whatever they were eating, and like a pro he took down the pots and pans needed to make something scrumptious with a flip or two of his wrist.

Pancakes, sausage, bacon, eggs and biscuits. Sakura liked a traditional meal for breakfast, but he just never had gotten the taste for miso in the morning. That was fine, though; Sakura would never reject his cooking. She would enjoy whatever he made, because at the very least _she_ didn't have to cook it. By the time his lovely housemate made it to the kitchen, he was already pulling the biscuits out of the oven and getting ready to put them on a plate.

"Whip cream or no?"

"… Nah. I'll pass. Extra preserves instead."

"Got it, yeah. Pick a movie out and I'll be there in a sec."

Leaving it up to her on a day like this could hand him a highly questionable pick, but he let her go anyway. It could be something sappy, or something really old like a 30s-style detective movie, or even the occasional old wrestling match or recording of an exceptional Chuunin or Jounin exam. With the dishes plated and fixed just the way they both liked it, he headed for the couch.

True to his expectations, she was popping in a disc from an old boxing anime.

"Saturday morning cartoons?"

"Well it's Thursday morning, but yeah."

He grinned, and despite her matter-of-fact façade he _knew_ she was grinning on the inside, too. She skipped over the commercials and went straight to the main menu, cranking the volume up to a low roar as she be-bopped back to the couch to the outdated rock tune. Deidara loved watching her eat, because when it was his cooking (not from a restaurant, not even that fancy Italian place she loved) she ate with such gusto and made such cute noises that she was more entertaining than whatever dumb movie she'd chosen. He ate his food at a much more sedated pace, but with Sakura yelling comments at the TV as often as she did, they still finished at about the same time. He sat back, sipping on a glass of iced tea, enjoying the peacefulness of their time together.

The TV was loud, and Sakura was being even louder, and because of her heat-loving southern blood the temperature was just a little too warm for his liking (and she was half-wrapped in a lap blanket), and the food in the kitchen needed putting away and _she_ certainly wouldn't do it… but it was so peaceful that he didn't care. Just a year ago, he was on his way to destroy a village where a festival was in full swing. He'd been living out of roach motels, under the thumb of an evil organization, lonely and guilty as hell and buried in a darkness he thought had snuffed out all the light in the world. Looking around him now, in a small but well-furnished apartment where the sun was pouring in and the sounds were joyful and the scents were relaxing, he was clean and accepted in the presence of others. He held a position of leadership; he was trusted to a surprising extent, though there were still the occasional doubters. He had friends, students and… and above all, he had Sakura.

Whatever the hell they were, they were each other's.

He glanced toward her at his side, just intending to observe her like he did so often, but something caught his eye. A little dab of red sauce was lingering suggestively at the corner of her lips. Apparently she hadn't noticed… which was rather strange, since she was usually very conscious of that sort of thing. A smirk crept up his lips, a teasing thought fluttering into his mind. There was no reason to deny himself, so without a second more to consider his actions, he leaned over and licked the spot away, tongue lingering suggestively on her skin.

He didn't realize it until she upended him onto the couch arm that the little dab of _strawberry preserves_ was there because she _meant_ for it to be there, and he was now thoroughly caught in her trap. She smirked, bracing her hands on his biceps and planted herself in a highly inconvenient (and suggestive) position between his knees. Sweetly taunting kisses rained down on his lips, his cheeks, his eyes, his brow, and he could feel her hands threatening to move and smooth over his pliant body. Sakura reveled in having the upper hand, and the mischievous twinkle in her eye told him she had something very, _very_ good in mind now that he was where she wanted him.

"Saturday morning cartoons, yeah?"

"Why do you think I turned up the volume so loud?"

'I see.' Deidara's smirk was all the voice he needed as he let her have her wicked way, teasing him a little but really just _not enough_. Her touches began to tingle with a tiny bit of chakra, sending delicious little crackles over his skin as she wandered, her hands staying put despite his mental promise that, as long as she kept going, he wouldn't budge a damn _inch_. Sakura wasn't taking any chances of it, but she could do miraculous little things even if her hands _weren't_ playing an active role. She loomed over him, bracing a leg on his upper thigh; her tongue swiped over the tip of his nose, a torturous kiss placed on his brow between his eyes, promising so much more than she was giving. She arched her back to lean down and whisper in his ear.

"Y'know, it took you long enough to notice. Another minute or two and I was going to attack you anyway."

She abandoned her torture, roughly sliding her hands up his arms and across his chest, her lips met by his possessively, without a single pretense between them. There wasn't a need to play around; no reason to be shy or unsure. It wasn't as though they _always_ did this, but their natural state was to be close. Whether that was mentally as compatriots or physically like _this_, it didn't matter—as if they'd always been this way, it was absolutely necessary for them to connect. Their lives, given for one another, had become a maddening bond that turned them into a mess. It screwed with their heads, turned everything into a physical or mental compulsion, made them crazy to be even in the same room. Separation hadn't been necessary just yet, what with Deidara still being somewhat observed; but like cabin fever, it was an uncontrollable urge without a defined outlet.

One touch, and it was a heat like a wildfire, running crazy free through their veins.

Her hands pulled at his hair, creating the space she wanted to nip roughly at his throat, just as he'd done to her earlier. She was merciless, and rather than accidentally, she left marks with all intention in visible places. He was hers. He was hers, just as much as she was his; there wasn't a single person in the world that could come between them. Even if in the beginning it was only a bond of friendship, a bond created by her taking him so graciously under her wing… without them noticing, it had turned into a deranged possession that didn't necessarily have anything to do with love, but everything to do with their equally disastrous desires to please and keep the other. She had to restrain herself from the intense need to gnaw on his collarbone; instead, she only pulled his hair harder, and nearly let her control snap as he groped her backside, hands leaving deep, colorful bruises beneath her clothes. It felt good exactly where he was, but as much as Sakura wanted to leave marks in visible places all over him, she wanted Deidara to do the same in return. The fact that he was careful and never did drove her crazy, even more possessive; the hook of madness that pulled her in to a deep lake of chaos refused to let her go so long as he didn't show the same insane possession for her that she lavished on him.

She wanted to be marked in his colors. She wanted to leave her colors on him, turn his blank sheet of relationships into a colorful masterpiece that was all in _her_ shade, _ in her make and intention_.

Her threadbare cotton pajamas were soon lost in the fray, her simple silk underwear inching down her thighs as Deidara's rough hands touched her, petted her, turned her into a catastrophically wanton mess as his lips wandered down her chest to the center of her bare breasts, his affections much more intentional than hers; his intentions were calculated, centered on her, only for her pleasure, all for the sake of bringing her a heartbreakingly high euphoria. Her nails were raking down his abs, leaving deep, bloody trails in his trembling skin. A broken moan escaped his lips, barely louder than a sigh. She wanted to swallow it up…

"Sakura-sama! Sakura-sama, Team Kakashi has returned! Uchiha Itachi has finally been captured!"

The banging on the door that accompanied the incredibly loud, incredibly untimely interruption, snapped the both of them out of their moment, bringing them down to earth again in their half-dressed, very aroused (and somewhat damaged) states. Sakura's blood was now boiling for entirely different reasons.

"Is his head on a pike?" she shouted back, glaring at the door over her shoulder. She heard the messenger, once overjoyed with his news, fumble in shock.

"Pro—proverbially, yes ma'am!"

"Goody. He'll still be there later, and the after-party I'm _sure_ won't be until tonight. It's my day off, so if you don't beat the hell out of here _right now_ I might just kill you."

His chakra disappeared from her doorstep that very instant, well aware of the fury boiling on the other side of the door. Sakura, now irritated with the interruption, turned a dark smile on her willing victim. Deidara had no doubts that he probably wouldn't get away with just a few hickeys and scratches this time, and he smirked at her in return.

"Now, where were we~?"

* * *

**AN: After just shy of six years, here it is: THE END. I'm sorry. I hope it was satisfactory. TT_TT I really wanted to convey that it wasn't the end of their adventure in life, but a beginning of a _different_ sort of adventure. XD; I hope all of ya'll enjoyed it, and keep an eye out for future stories!  
**


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